


dying to live

by RK7200



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Concerned Dimitri, Concerned Everyone, Dubious Morality, Eventual Romance, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Let me support my own father, M/M, Multi, Self-Harm, Tea times, Temporary Character Death, basically dumb and slightly less dumb duo, byleth has no care for his own life, byleth saying fuck it to death, dying in the name of science, ruthless byleth and feral sothis, sorta - Freeform, will be au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RK7200/pseuds/RK7200
Summary: Instead of Divine Pulse Byleth is granted the gift of psuedo-immortality, which he uses very responsibly. (Not really, Sothis would say. But hey, it's not as if it was going to kill him, right?)(The Blue Lions just want their professor to stop dying for them, please and thank you.)





	1. a girl and her throne

Byleth was supposed to be dead a few moments ago. Choking on his own blood as he dies. Hands cold and eyes blurring.

His heart is still and ice runs through his veins but Byleth wakes.

Jeralt laughs and Byleth can still taste the blood on his tongue. He briefly wondered whether he had died at all, but as he sees a scar on his abdomen he realizes that he did die.

Byleth died mere moments ago and now he wakes once more.

* * *

“What are you?” the girl had asked, sitting upon her throne of stone. High and mighty, like a painting given form. Her hair spreads around her like a cloak as light shines from above them both, bathing her in an ethereal light. Her ears were sharp like her pupils, jagged teeth poke out from her lips. Dressed in ancient garbs and hair tied in intricate patterns. Magic thrummed around them both, high pitched and erratic. Its melody was akin to her, inhumane and divine. 

What am I? Byleth would like to ask that as well. Hands reaching towards the scar that runs through his lung.

“A human,” he answered, staring up at her with a dead heart and cold hands. She frowns. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

A moment of tense silence, as she places her head on her palm. One hand raises towards him, beckoning for him- for him to what? 

“Now, tell me what are you _really,_” she asks, again. Demanding for an answer and he is compelled to give it to her. As though he is under her thrall. Something within him knows he must give her an answer, for no one denies a request from a deity. 

With a grave for a heart and ice for his blood he answers, “A ghost.”

She laughs, like lullabies and the morning birds. 

“How very interesting, a ghost bearing human skin,” the girl said, lips quirked and hair swaying as she leans from side to side, the air around him hums with her movement. “Even though I lack the memory, I have no doubt that you’re very interesting, indeed, Ghost.” 

It feels right, somehow, to be called as such. 

“Not to mention the fact that we share the same date of birth,” she mused, hand under her chin as her feet moves to an unheard tempo. “How very interesting.” 

Her image blurs as light blocks his vision. 

“Oh? I think that this means that our time is up,” she noted. Feet finally coming to a stop as she leans against her throne. Heavenly chorus finally ending as her eyes close, hand coming to cover her lips as she yawns. 

“I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, soon,” she said, drowsiness covering her words, a smile lighting her features as she is once again bathed in light. “I do not know why, but I feel that you’ll be very interesting indeed.”

White fills his vision and the girl fades.

“Byleth, the ghost with a human’s skin.” 

Another yawn passes through her lips, a song thrumming under her skin slowly dwindling. 

“Will you bring my memories back to me?”

The nameless girl closes her eyes and falls into a deep slumber once more.

* * *

Byleth wakes, ice running in his veins and ribcage empty. A man awaits him, with familiar scars decorating his face and a warm smile directed towards Byleth. 

“You’re awake,” he said, his hands warm on Byleth’s shoulder. Byleth nods, looking around the dark room with only a lit candle for lighting. No girl on a throne, no divine light shining from above. 

“Did you have an interesting dream?” Jeralt asks. Removing his hands from Byleth’s shoulder as the man rises from the bed. 

“I dreamt of a girl,” Byleth answered, a name on his tongue yet he is unable to say it. “She asked me what I was.” 

Jeralt laughs. “Isn’t it too early for your existential crisis?”

“I do not know how old I am,” Byleth reminded Jeralt. 

“You’re younger than me and _I_ haven’t got mine yet.” Jeralt shrugs, easy smile forming on his lips. Byleth had forgotten that even Jeralt doesn’t know Jeralt’s age. “You’ve been dreaming of this girl a whole lot lately, don’t tell me it’s one of the village girls that you’ve fallen for. Or maybe it’s one of the mercenaries.” 

Byleth frowns, remembering the baby fat on the girl’s cheeks and her short stature. Almost like the village children, like Edith who was nine and silly and had proclaimed that she was going to marry roses the other day because they looked pretty. “No, absolutely not.” 

_A child?_ A whisper passes through his ear, affronted almost, yet it was there one moment and gone the next. 

“So a strange girl- who you’ve never met before- is on a stone throne, and asked you what you are,” Jeralt recalled, rubbing his chin. “Sounds like you’ve got one hell of an imagination under that blank face of yours, ‘Leth.” 

Byleth huffs, turning away from Jeralt and his teasing laughter. 

“Well, are you ready to depart?”

Byleth nods, wanting to roll his eyes yet not willing to tarnish his dignity as an adult. To which Jeralt would probably reply with something along the lines of, “How do you know, you don’t even know your own age.”

To which, Byleth having already had this conversation multiple times already would reply, “The moment I slit a man’s throat would be when I had stopped being a child.” 

Then, Jeralt would wilt for a few seconds bemoaning where did his cute child go, to which Byleth would reply that that child never existed. 

They made their way out into the clear night sky, with the full moon painted on the sky and constellations in their full bloom, oddly picturesque- when-

“Bandits! There are bandits, sir!” Josef the Mercenary reported, flustered and out of breath. 

Then three children stand in front of him, dressed in yellow, blue and red. Beseeching him and his father for help. 

When he meets their eyes, something shifts and- 

Sparks move through his veins and a phantom beat in a shallow grave. 

_What fate will await you?_


	2. the three nobles and a ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> byleth fights the bandits and die, not for the first and not for the last time.

Byleth does not know why he is here, in the middle of three noble brats. Their weapons polished and shines under the harsh moonlight and their stances stiff. Wonders why he is here instead of by his father’s side, fighting and ending the invasion within minutes if not an hour. 

Jeralt stifles a laugh and Byleth wants to stab him. Damn the man, he knew how Byleth hated working with rookies. Not that Jeralt had much patience to work with them either. 

Still- 

Why him? 

His heart had stilled and ice was back in his veins. The spark from earlier having faded, making Byleth wondered if it was there at all. 

“So you’re a mercenary?” Yellow asks, bow raised and arrow ready. Certainly not a bad stance, now that Byleth looks him over, but not excellent either. But he certainly was cunning enough, if the smell of poison on his sleeves and arrows were anything to go by. Clever and ruthless, a combination that Byleth could certainly work with. 

Byleth nods. 

“Impressive,” Blue noted, lance by his side. His hands were still but Byleth can see the unrest in his eyes, the way his feet tap against the ground. 

Ah, Byleth thinks. This one has killed. 

Interesting, indeed. 

“We will have to see his expertise in combat, I suppose,” Red said. Her axe pointed to the ground and her red stockings stand out like a lantern amidst the dreary night. Yellow’s color was also a very bad idea for fighting, but who was Byleth to judge if they wanted to be targeted so badly? 

Fighting without armor, no less, truly nobles at their finest. 

“Enemies,” he reported. Unsheathing his sword, it was an old thing, needing replacement very soon but it worked and Byleth needed nothing else to defend against common bandits. 

They all stiffen, Yellow beginning to twirl his arrow which made Byleth concerned for all those around him, not knowing what poison rested on those tips. Blue’s breath evens out as his eyes narrow and his feet still (interesting, Byleth notes again) lance ready. Red readies her axe, making an impressive show out of swinging it around her back, intimidation tactic maybe. 

An enemy approaches, with a stumble in his steps and a warcry. Terrible, Byleth notes with disdain. The standards were low it seems, for common bandits. 

Boring as well, Byleth notes. Feeling his blade kiss the bandit’s skin, leaving a red trail in its wake. The bandit falls, groaning and gasping. Hands coming to cover his wounds, eyes looking up at Byleth. He was scared, Byleth notes. Interesting. He wonders how it feels to be scared.

Wonders how it is to even feel at all. 

“Come on, ‘leth,” Jeralt yelled from behind him. “Don’t play with your food!” 

Right, Byleth thinks and wants to roll his eyes. But restrains himself, once again, because he was an adult. A quick downward swing and the bandit dies. 

Quick and simple, Byleth thinks. Quaint. 

He turns around, facing the three nobles. Their faces varying shades of white. 

He swings his sword in an arc, watching in satisfaction as the blood comes clean off his blade. Well, not clean, with the remaining blood smears, but clean enough. 

“Well?” he asks, watching their eyes lock onto his sword. “Let’s move.” 

Blue nods, a grim look about him with his set jaw and clenched hands. Red nods as well, less tense but there was a glint in her eyes that set him on edge. Feeling like he needs to watch his own neck lest his own fall under her axe. 

“Brutal, aren’t ya,” Yellow said, green eyes bright and neon under the moon. Reminding him of fireflies. 

“I’m a mercenary,” he replied. Yellow laughs, before turning around again, away from the corpse. A bravado, really. For all intent and purposes, the boy looks confident and courageous. A good look, if it weren’t displayed in front of Byleth who had seen numerous trainees like him before. 

Well, at least he was convincing enough for a noble. 

They fought some more, he observes idly on the side, skewering another bandit or so at an interval as the nobles fend off the others. Their teamwork was alright, but it did need improvement. More communication maybe, he thinks. Watching Blue almost stabbing Yellow who was attempting to kick at a bandit despite being an archer. 

He wanders closer to them. Defeating a few fair bandits on the way as his father hangs back. A steady presence that ensures that no bandit would be able to truly injure Byleth. As he nears the trio, Yellow had decided to enact revenge on Blue by tripping the other boy, causing him to trip and fall.

Byleth does roll his eyes this time. Reaching out his hands to catch Blue before he could fall. Their face mere inches away. From this distance, Byleth could see Blue’s eyelash and how they frame his bright blue eyes, the way his hair would fall into his face as he shifts, and how his lips seem to glisten under the moonlight. 

A pinkish hue spreads over his cheeks and Byleth lets him go. Wondering if he had offended the noble or not. 

“You-” the noble begins. Cheeks still blazing and hands shaking. Byleth almost replies, but instead once again draws him closer as a bandit attempts to swing at the boy while he was distracted. Truly, no awareness. 

“Watch out,” he mumbled, letting Blue go and seeing how the blush spreads downwards as his eyes seem to shine with it. 

His eyes are nice, Byleth thinks distantly. Like roses and lilies, that kind of ‘nice.’

“Byleth, what are you doing?” Jeralt yells and Byleth pushes himself forward, letting his blade once again fell another enemy.

“Defending the village,” Byleth replied. “Unlike you.” 

Jeralt cries. 

The bandit leader, small and frail comes into view. Wielding an axe (shoddy and cheap, Byleth thinks. Fitting) and hollering for the whole world to hear his ego. He pales as he sees Byleth approach, axe reaching out to do something. But before he could the three nobles were on him. Like vicious rabid dogs, Byleth thinks. Cute. 

They beat him within an inch of his life, even the archer was doing a fair amount of work with his feet. The key is that they had injured him, but not kill. Once again, cute. 

Byleth lets them, turning away. It was no business what they planned, his job was to defend Remire and he had done just that.

Except a scream, shrill and young, came from behind him. Without thinking, amateur mistake, really, Byleth runs back. Finding Red cornered with Blue and Yellow too distracted to help, and the bandit they just let live raising his axe. 

Byleth charges, despite them being nobles Byleth could not let them die. Not when they had asked him for help, not when they were under his protection.

For Byleth would not fail his missions. 

(Byleth didn’t want to see them die, not when they were still young and able. Still young and innocent, not like him-)

Pain- it was painful, he thinks and he fades. 

_Testing fate, how interesting._

* * *

“I knew we would meet again, Ghost,” the girl greeted. Awake and humming. The divine tune surrounds them once more as she laughs. 

“What did I expect, really,” she said. “This is your fate, ridden with troubles and battles. See, interesting.” 

He reaches for his side, finding that the wound was still bleeding. His hands stained with red, red blood as he stares back at her. 

“You see, this would be the point where you die,” she said. As a weight forces him onto his knees. “Exactly like that, on your knees and utterly pathetic. But as it were you have a gift.”

He gasps. Pain, it hurts-

She laughs. “It must hurt, you are meant to die, after all, yet you stand before me.” 

She lifts her hands and he was on his feet once more. “Oh, Byleth, how interesting you are.” 

The pain, it was mind-numbing and yet. 

Fire roars in his veins. 

She giggles. “Ah, my name is Sothis, remember that.”

Fire roars in his veins. And- 

And it made him feel alive-

She giggles. “You must wake now, oh Brave Ghost. More heroics await you yet.”

Light floods his vision and-

“More deaths, as well, of course. But what is a tale without tragedy?”

* * *

Byleth wakes, on his feet and hands clean. 

His veins are ice once more and he frowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed that! I certainly did while writing it. byleth is a lot more brutal in ths fic and so it sothis. hes quite distant now but he'll definitely get attached later (because hes weak lol) but i hope you guys like this byleth! 
> 
> i have a discord so check it out!: https://discord.gg/BeQKa4J
> 
> please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't they all motivate me and makes me super happy! (´ ▽｀).。ｏ♡


	3. names and titles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which byleth finally learns the names of the primary colors, get teased by his dad, and begins the journey to garreg mach

“You- you- how are you still-” the bandit leader began. Looking between his axe, still dripping with blood- his blood- and Byleth. Byleth does the same, kneading the area around the wound. Feeling it still bleeding, still painful, but turning into scabs with each passing moment. 

There are sparks within his veins and something thrumming inside his chest. The pain no longer an issue in comparison to how warm his veins are. 

The bandit leader stumbles backward and flees, his axe dropped to the ground during his run and Byleth does not bother to chase him. 

_“There must always be a cowardly bandit for a hero, isn’t there.”_

Byleth startles, hands reaching for his sword-

_ “Oh, you, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me,”_ the speaker crooned softly.

Sothis, he thinks and a giggle passes through his ears. 

_“It seems like your mind still works. Lucky for the both of us, I supposed. I would prefer to be… attached to someone with a mind,”_ she said. _“Though I do not know how I can talk to you, it is better to not… ah, look a horse in the mouth, right?”_

That was not how it went, but Byleth didn’t care either way.

_“Well, pardon me for my lack of memory,”_ she huffed. _“Regardless, it seems as though I have regained parts of my memories, as barren as it still is. But the timing is… huh… maybe it is a coincidence?”_

She trails off, words growing lighter. _“I suppose only time will tell. Now disturb me no more.”_

He would like to remind her that he wasn’t the one to start the conversation.

_ “Hush, your thoughts are… bothering… me…”_ she says. Seemingly falling asleep by the end of her sentence. 

Like a child, he thinks. Young and foolish. Feeling the wound closing as a scar appears in its place. 

His veins are ice once more and he frowns. 

“It looks like that bandit got you real good there,” Yellow commented, studying the spreading red that painted his side. 

“Claude,” Blue warned. And suddenly an arm was at Byleth’s back, seemingly trying to support him. It was muscled, Byleth notes. The person must be somewhat strong, good potential to be a swordsman or something else relating to physical weapons really, someone Byleth would’ve loved to train, maybe an axe-user? One of his father’s mercenary, or perhaps Red, even though he doubted that she cared enough but, he turns and oh- it was Blue, the one with the lance and the pretty sky eyes. 

Sensing his surprise, Blue turns to him. Big wide eyes and shaky lips. “I apologize, but with a wound like that I doubted that you would be standing at all.” 

Blue seems to struggle between whether to remove his arm or not, and Byleth can feel the twitches as the boy’s internal struggle surfaced into the physical world. So he decides for him and leans away from Blue’s arm. 

“I guess you can stand,” Blue said, a shaky smile forming on his lips. Looking somewhat like a disheartened puppy. 

Byleth suddenly realizes that he is weak to pups as well. And in what feels like no thought at all he says, “You have nice arms.”

“Excuse me?” Blue blurts. Red overtaking his cheeks once more. 

Yellow laughs along with his father and Byleth wants to kill them both. 

“Wow, Dimitri,” Yellow- Claude, if he heard correctly, said over his laughter. “Mere seconds and you already have our mysterious mercenary under your thrall. How… devious of you.” 

Blue- Dimitri, the name fits- blushes further. 

His father, the absolute traitor, laughs even harder. “I guess you’ll be seeing a different person in your dreams tonight, huh?” 

Byleth would like to remind his father of who was the one that was managing the finances for their merry crew of mercenaries. 

Byleth, it was Byleth who was in charge of the finances. And in turn, he had the means to limit the amount of budget that would be put towards Jeralt’s precious liquor. Thus, he looks straight at Jeralt as he makes a cutting motion, the man paling suddenly. As he almost falls off his horse trying to get to Byleth to beg. 

“They are nice,” Byleth repeated, a tiny frown marring his face. “He’d have great potential to wield a lance.” 

“Maybe good for other things as well, though, eh?” Jeralt jokes, Claude’s eyes snap towards his father with speed that Byleth considers decent for an archer. 

“Yes, he’d be good with swords and other weaponry as well,” Byleth replied and Jeralt’s face falls. 

“Yeah, well, probably, but that wasn’t what I was talking about.” 

“What else would you need arms for?” Byleth asks, pulling Dimitri’s arms up and inspecting it with curious eyes. 

“Other things, for the small pleasures of life, you know,” Jeralt said, there was a weird intonation to his words. Yellow chokes on his spit as the blond becomes even more flustered. “Not that you’d care.”

Byleth only scoffs. “What you consider ‘pleasure,’ I do not need to know.” 

Jeralt wilts again and Byleth lets the blond’s arm drop. He nods towards the boy with gold for hair and the ocean for eyes. “Decent footwork as well.” 

“Thank you?” 

“You should be, Byleth never compliments anyone anymore, ‘specially his dear old man,” Jeralt remarked staring down at Dimitri with cold eyes as his lance shines in the moonlight. “You’re certainly… special, aren’t you.” 

That did not sound like a compliment, despite the wording.

The sound of heavy armor crashing into the scene as a man dressed in gaudy armor that Byleth, nor any of their mercenaries, would be caught dead wearing. 

“The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our students!” the man yells, an ally then. Byleth notes as he resheathes his sword. As the man surveys the scene his eyes lock onto Jeralt as he smiles, and Byleth wonders if teeth like that were even natural. 

“Oh, Captain Jeralt!” 

His father pales.

Interesting, Byleth notes. Feeling something light bubble in his chest as his father almost falls off his horse. 

“Alois,” his father mumbled, almost like a petulant child. 

Interesting.

* * *

“And who is this?” the man asks, gesturing towards Byleth. 

“This man is all but a stranger to me,” he said. “I’ve never met him before today.” 

Jeralt sighs. Like a man on his deathbed as he nudges Byleth with the end of his lance, before giving up and giving a pointed kick to Byleth’s very armored back. “He’s my son for more than a decade now.”

A very pointed jab.

“I think.” 

“Your son?” the man, Alois, odd name, gasps. 

“Yes, he’s my son.” With that said, Jeralt dismounts. Landing softly by Byleth’s side as he draws Byleth into a chokehold. “My very dear son.” 

With the way his hand was messing up Byleth’s hair, Byleth sincerely doubts that. 

“When was I born then, father?” 

“Fucking hell, not this again,” Jeralt groaned. “I’m telling you, I don’t know.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Byleth mumbled. 

“Hey, I know your birthday, alright?” Jeralt replied, messing up Byleth’s hair even further with his dirt-stained hands. “Just forgot the year, that’s all.” 

“Of course, _Father_,” Byleth drawled, trying to slide himself out of Jeralt’s iron grip. He sees the three nobles standing off in the distance, trying hard to look like they were talking amongst themselves and not staring at the spectacle before them. 

Nobles, they never change.

* * *

They would be going to Garreg Mach his father said, a resigned look about him that makes something inside Byleth rises from its shackles. Something hot rushes through him for a moment, before it, too, became ice. 

In the end, Byleth gives him a nod. Despite not knowing where Garreg Mach was, or what it even is. But the name sounds important. Important enough for the three nobles to perk up, glancing at him with a strange light in their eyes. Byleth never liked feeling like prey, and being looked at like a piece of meat was no different. 

“I am no mere student,” the girl began and that was the start of the posturing. 

Byleth resigns himself to hearing more boasts and recruitment speeches. No stranger to their pitches and the ways they would tempt him, but still interested in what they'll say to earn his favor. He turns to find the noble, Dimitri looking back at him with the same intensity as the girl in red. His eyes were blue like gems, but that didn't stop Byleth from seeing the shadow that lurks underneath them. 

Ah, there is something interesting this time around, he thinks. Looking at the beginnings of a monster.

What monster will you become?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter, there were zero (0) deaths this chapter, which is pretty nice lol. but worry not, more deaths will be coming, maybe not in the next chapter but they are coming! i love writing the three primary colors so much and the romance is gonna be pretty slow for this one folks. 
> 
> please leave a comment on what you liked, what you didn't, just anything! Your comments really motivate me and I love to read them!


	4. what rests on your decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the recruitment speech and a piece of advice from our resident goddess to byleth.

“So how’s your wound there?” Jeralt asked, motioning towards the spot where the coward had nicked Byleth. Interrupting the girl in red from speaking further.

“Fine,” Byleth answered, his armor sliding away revealing the torn shirt (he’ll have to replace that later, damn the bandit) and bare skin. 

Jeralt touches the place where there were once blood and bone. His touch soft and delicate, more like a handmaiden than the fearsome mercenary Byleth knew him as. “Was this scar always here?”

“Yes,” Byleth replied readily, readjusting his armor to once again block Jeralt’s sight. 

“When?” Jeralt persisted even with the clear dismissal from Byleth.

“I forgot,” Byleth lied, remembering the pain and agony, remembers the fire in his blood and phantom beat of a phantom heart. 

“How can you forget that?” Jeralt groaned, hopping back onto his mare. 

“How can you forget your own age?” Byleth snapped, voice still cold and arid. Like the desert that he so detests. Jeralt almost slips off his horse, and Byleth could only regret that the man was too experienced to actually fall off his mare. 

Byleth knows that Jeralt wants to retort, start another argument or two perhaps. Arguments of which Byleth would win, Byleth knows this with absolute certainty, and Jeralt would sulk for approximately five seconds about a child that he never had before springing back onto his feet. 

Byleth wishes he had that tenacity. 

“Well,” Jeralt begab. There was something that Byleth didn’t like about that tone. “Since you don’t want to talk to dear old dad today, I suppose you’re just rearing to speak to those new friends of yours.” 

With that said, Jeralt- or his mare anyways, she was practically her owner, though- saunters off, throwing his own son to the wolves. 

Petty, Byleth thinks. How is this man my father?

He shakes his head, finding himself the subject of the three noble’s attention once more. 

“You’re his child?” the girl asked, her eyes squinting slightly at him. As though studying his and his father’s image and finding nothing. 

“Yeah, can’t quite see the resemblance there, either,” Claude said, exaggerating the way he was looking at Byleth, placing his hand under his chin. 

“I am his son,” Byleth answered, a hand quickly coming up to adjust his teal hair and knowing what it must look like compared to Jeralt’s light auburn. “Or so I’ve been told.” 

“Or so you’ve been told?” the girl repeated, slightly of higher pitch than before. Somewhat like the bandits when they would plead for their lives. “You mean to say you don’t really know?”

He shrugs, finding it hard to stomach their curious gazes. “Does it matter?” 

“Well- well I supposed not,” the girl replied. A hand placed on her chest and the other on her hips as though to regain her confidence. “Regardless, you must be important to the legendary Captain Jeralt to be called his child. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, the future empress to the Adrestian Empire. I would like to-” 

So the girl had a reason to be dressed in red, after all, as ill-suited as the color was for combat. Byleth remembers the Empire and their fascination with the color. On missions where he had passed through their land, he remembers the garish garments that were on display and the way their flag had flown in the wind looking like stationary flames. 

“You still doubt his lineage, Edelgard?” the boy, Dimitri, questioned, standing by her side. “I have no doubt that they are father and son despite their… differing appearances.”

“You can never be too sure, Dimitri,” Edelgard spat back.

“Very well,” Dimitri answered, moving his gaze from the girl back to Byleth. “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the heir to the Faerghus Kingdom. I would like to ask if you’d like to-”

“Woah there Your Highnesses,” Claude interjected, “A bit too quick with your recruitment speech now.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested either, Claude,” Dimitri, the heir to the Kingdom as it seems, snapped. 

Claude shrugs, a sly smile coming on his lips. “Oh, I’m plenty interested alright, but you know, you gotta have more tact than that to charm a man to your side.”

Both Dimitri and Edelgard frowns as Claude laughs, “Well, would’ve needed more charm. But you’ve already captured his attention with your… excellent arms, right, Dimitri?” 

Dimitri’s cheeks lit up as Edelgard seem to struggle between frowning and admonishing Claude or agreeing with him. 

“Well, it can’t hurt to try either way,” Claude continued, turning to Byleth, "I am Claude von Riegan of the Alliance. Of course, I don’t have quite the arms that Dimitri here does, but, I’m told that I have quite the… shall we say, skillful fingers.” Claude, the future pseudo-leader of the Alliance winks at Byleth. A sly smirk on his lips as he spins an arrow with his aforementioned fingers. 

“Claude- you-” Dimitri stuttered, face even brighter than before. “To- to insinuate-” 

“Well, he has his tactics,” Edelgard commented, something considering in the way that she was looking at Claude. 

“Potential, yes,” Byleth said, “Skill? That will come with time.” 

Claude chuckles, it was decidedly pleasant, as he elbows Dimitri. “You hear that? You’re not the only one with potential anymore.” 

Dimitri sighs as Byleth sees the boy struggling to not physically throw Claude off. Luckily, for the future of the Alliance Claude moves away from Dimitri and turns back to Byleth once more with his sly smile returning. “If you join the Alliance, we’ll have plenty of time to, ah, improve my skills.”

Another wink. “Together.” 

Unlucky for the Alliance, both Dimitri and Edelgard punches him. 

“Please excuse him,” Dimitri said, holding the weakened Claude up by his arms. 

“Yes, please disregard everything he said,” Edelgard agreed, holding the future hope of the Alliance by his legs. 

Claude groans, “Don’t, consider everything I said, very carefully. I meant every wor- ouch! Fine, it seems our time is up for today, but-”

Dimitri places a hand on Claude’s mouth as the boy was carried off. 

_“Interesting bunch, aren’t they.”_

Awake now?

_ “Hush, you, but be sure to consider them carefully. Your fate lies in the balance.”_

Byleth blinks. 

_“Well, yours, and the rest of Fodlan’s.”_ Sothis laughs. 

Byleth startles as the words register in his mind. 

_“Pick carefully, but, well, it’s not like you’re going to die if you choose incorrectly.”_ A girl appears in front of him, shimmering as though she was made of light itself. Her eyes glowing with power as her claws trace his jaw. She floats in front of him, feet off the ground as her eyes met his. Her pupils were sharp just as the jagged teeth that lurk beneath her smile, dangerous and bestial much like herself. She laughs once more like the tinkering of bells and the cries of ghosts. As her claws seem to solidify around his jaw, approaching his neck, threatening to cut. _“But at least make it interesting, won’t you?”_

She places a gentle kiss on his forehead as she fades away once more, her inhumane smile stuck in his mind. It feels as though he’d been cursed as the ice solidifies in his veins and a phantom beat sparks in his heart. 

A distant ringing in his ears as a girl laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing claude is so fun lol, and writing about byleth and jeralt is also fun. ah, i love their father-son bond so much. 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed that! i hope that sothis' portrayal, again, won't be too terrible since i want this to be an au where both sothis and byleth are shaped by death and thus more brutal than before. it also fits the story more so i hope you guys will come to like her. 
> 
> please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't like, just anything, really, to help the author improve and super happy and motivated!


	5. a woman she does not recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein byleth marches to garreg mach, talks and meets a woman with two names.

Garreg Mach, as it turns out, was just as prestigious as its name implied. Even from a distance, Byleth could see the clean ivory walls and ego-driven nobles that resides within the castle-like building. 

“Beautiful, is it not?” Dimitri asked, face tilted up to face the sun. Its light hitting his cheeks, casting his lashes in a golden glow and his eyes a shining gem. As though his hair was spun of golden threads and his eyes made up of the finest gems, or perhaps of the ocean itself. 

Beautiful, Byleth thinks, not of Garreg Mach but of something else. “Indeed.” 

Dimitri smiles, it was a soft thing, too fragile for the strength he had used to rid the bandits of the other night, but it fits. Oddly enough. 

Useless thoughts, they were. Beauty did not matter in combat and did not save one from death.

“Not as beautiful as you, of course,” Claude spoke, placing his hand on Byleth’s shoulder as green eyes stare up at him slyly. Claude, Byleth realizes, is also beautiful. Like the forest in summer. Alive and buzzing with activity. Like the rustling leaves and soft grass and fresh flowers that would flutter in the wind. 

This, too, would not help him in combat. And Byleth wonders how they would glaze over when he dies; if they would dull or become brighter still as he struggles to breathe. 

_“They would be beautiful. Even more so than they are now.”_

Many things would be more beautiful than that; the sight of someone struggling on the precipe of death. Yet Byleth can imagine the way that Claude’s green eyes would look then; how it would dim and spark with fear or determination or both as he struggles to breathe. How those green eyes would look up at him and the desperation that lays in them as death grips at his heart. 

A beautiful sight indeed, Byleth thinks. Veins entirely too cold and heart entirely empty. 

“Haha, have I enchanted you?” the boy said, batting his eyelashes at Byleth. “What was it, my beautiful green eyes or-” 

“You with your dirty tricks,” Edelgard said, a rough hand landing on Claude’s shoulder dragging him away from Byleth. “Do you never cease, Claude?” 

Her eyes, Byleth thinks, are like flowers. An unnatural shade that was a bit too dark to be the sunset skies, yet too light to be accurately described as violet. He had only seen them in flowers, grown in the wild and in the auroras that rarely shows itself in the winters of Faerghus. 

“There’s always more to do, Your Majesty,” Claude answered, sliding out of Edelgard’s grip. “Who knows? Maybe my charm and wit will convince our dear mercenary here just yet.” 

“Claude,” Dimitri chided, landing a gentle hit on Claude’s head. “Your ceaseless flirtings will have no impact on him.”

“You never know, Your Highness,” Claude remarked his hand coming to cover his head from the prince’s blow. “Many have attested to being won over by my charms.” 

“Who?” Dimitri asks while rolling his eyes. He was clearly doubtful and to that Claude gave a huff. 

“You know, people,” Claude answered vaguely before resting his chin on Byleth’s shoulder once again. “Anyways…” 

He was pulled off Byleth’s shoulder once more by Edelgard as he gave a little gasp in response to the rough treatment. “Ouch, geez, Your Majesty, couldn’t you have been a little more gentle?” 

“Have you ever heed my warnings before, Claude? I think not, so I shall not hear your pleas either.” 

Claude laughs as he shrugs. “Sorry, what can I say, our dear mercenary is just too captivating.” 

He was promptly elbowed for that. 

A little squabble started as the three lag behind; mindlessly arguing amongst one another as their pace slowed and their words turn faster. He was soon again next to his father. His pace matching the idle way his father’s steed moves. His father, as it were, was also done conversing. Instead, he seems to look at Garreg Mach with complex eyes. 

“Done talking with your new friends?” Jeralt softly asked. His steed slowing further as Byleth nods. 

“So, have you fallen for yellow’s charms yet?” A moment of consideration as Byleth pauses. Thinking. “What, really? That brat managed to flirt his way into your heart?” 

Byleth huffs as Jeralt also slides off his horse, his lance falling steadily to the ground as the man gawk. 

“His eyes,” Byleth said as he gestures around them. “They are nice.” 

“So… let me get this straight, Yellow managed to worm his way into your good graces- not because of his charm- but his eyes remind you of the forest?” Byleth nods, although it wasn’t quite accurate but it was close enough. 

“They are nice,” Byleth repeated. “Fireflies.” 

His father huffs. “What about the future king of Faerghus? Is there no substance beneath his arms then?” 

“Oceans,” Byleth answered before looking up. “Oceans and the sky.” 

“Freeing and lively, is that right?” 

Byleth shakes his head. “They are missing something.” 

“What are they missing then?” Jeralt asked as he leans back onto his steed. 

“I do not know.”

“Okay,” Jeralt said, obviously resigned. “What about the future empress then, her eyes struck your fancy, too?” 

“Unnatural, but nice,” Byleth noted, nodding a bit. “Daturas.” 

“Pretty but poisonous,” Jeralt mused with a finger underneath his jaw. “Interesting description.” 

“Poisonous is good,” Byleth argued, frowning slightly. “A flower without poison is no flower.” 

_ “Poison tastes good, too, you should try it sometimes.”_

That was a thought, Byleth thinks. Wondering how the touch of poison would taste on his tongue. Would it be sweet? Bitter? Like the most hellish of spice or the gentlest honey?

Thoughts for another time, Byleth notes. 

“What does that even mean,” Jeralt groaned but does not continue. 

They walk in silence for a while longer. With the squabbles of nobles from behind and chatter of knights from below. 

“You are… apprehensive,” Byleth said, at last, a slight frown on his brows. “Why?” 

Jeralt sighs but there was already a fond smile on his lips. “Nothing gets passed you, huh.” 

“If they did we would be without a single coin,” Byleth reminded, none too helpful, as Jeralt groans once more. 

“That was one time,” Jeralt argued; looking up into the skies as though there would be something that could whisk him away right now. “How was I supposed to know that the ‘duchess’ was a wanted gremory all along?”

“One time too many,” Byleth said. Something like a smile coming to his lips. “Now, talk.” 

“Well, as you may have guessed I have somewhat of a history with this place,” Jeralt says as he gestures towards the grand building. “Let’s just say… I didn’t leave on the best terms with the archbishop there.” 

“Archbishop?” He had never heard of such a title before, but it did sound important. 

“Right, you’ve never been taught of the church,” Jeralt mumbled, “Well she’s basically the head honcho of Garreg Mach, call her Lady Rhea.” 

“Lady Rhea,” Byleth noted. “The church?” 

“You know the Goddess and all of that, but nevermind, you’ve never even heard of her before either,” Jeralt said. “Well anyways, I advise you now to take all her words with a grain of salt.”

Byleth nods as Jeralt gently cuffed his head. 

“Be sure to pay her the proper respect, too, don’t know what Seteth will do if he hears you calling her Rhea of all things.” 

“Seteth?” 

Jeralt groans. “Forget it.”

* * *

The nobles disperse as they arrive at the gates of Garreg Mach. Claude giving him one last wink as he was dragged away as Dimitri gives Byleth one final smile. 

Byleth nods towards them before walking off with his father, who was by now on foot after ensuring his horse was well kept, towards the main building as it seems. 

At that moment a shadow catches his eye as he looks upwards. As green tresses shine in the light of the sun and familiar green eyes stare down at him. 

_“Seiros,”_ Sothis gasps.

Who is that?

_“I do not know,”_ she admits and Byleth can almost see the flecks of flight from where she appears. _“But I seem to know her.”_

“Lady Rhea,” Jeralt mumbled. “That’s her.” 

_“Seiros,”_ Sothis says once more, more confused than panicked. 

Lady Rhea, Byleth thinks as he looks up at the woman.

Seiros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things are changed from canon ofc. for example sothis remembering seiros so there's that. I made jeralt and byleth talk more because i want my father-son interactions gdi and also byleth's relationship with rhea is going to be a little bit different from canon so i hope y'all will enjoy that! 
> 
> please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you disliked, just anything really, to make the author super happy and motivated!


	6. names long lost and an impossible hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> byleth arrives at garreg mach and discovers that his father actually had a history.

“Lady Rhea,” Byleth greeted as he bows. The name Seiros still ringing in his head as he bows awkwardly. 

“You must be Byleth,” the woman- Rhea? Seiros?- exclaimed as her eyes close to form crescents and a blush forms on her cheeks. Her hand reaches for his hair as she continues to smile. “My, how you’ve grown.” 

Byleth had half a mind to repeat that sentence in his head and frowns at the connotation. Her hands felt cold and familiar as his smooths over his hair. 

“Indeed,” the man next to her agreed as he focuses his glare on Jeralt. 

_“Cichol,”_ Sothis gasped. _“That is his name.”_

“Lighten up a little won’t ya, Seteth?” his father said with a wry grin. 

_“No that is not-”_

“You should be grateful that Lady Rhea even allows you to be within her presence,” the man snapped. 

_“They are Seiros and Cichol.”_

How do you know? he asks. How can you claim to know their names when you’ve barely remembered yours?

_“It is as though the sky is blue and the sun is warm. As she is Seiros and he is Cichol.”_

“Seiros,” he mumbled under his breath as the woman’s eyes dart to him quickly. 

“What did you say?” 

“Nothing,” Jeralt answered in his stead. His hand reaching out to pull Byleth away. “He said nothing Lady Rhea.” 

“I could’ve sworn…” 

“She did not ask you, Eisner,” the man- Seteth? Cichol?- spat. 

“And you used to call me Jeralt, too,” his father whined as he smiles easily. But there was something sad in his eyes. “Times sure have changed, huh.” 

“Indeed, they have. Eisner,” the man returned, the anger clear in his words and blazing eyes, “Especially with how you-” 

“Enough, Seteth,” the woman interrupted, her hand on the man’s shoulder as she frowns. “It has already been quite some time.” 

“But-” 

“Enough,” the woman repeated. Voice still gentle yet it was as though her words held daggers. “That is enough.” 

“Very well, Lady Rhea,” the man murmured even though the way he was looking at Jeralt confirmed that this argument was not over. 

“You and Jeralt can talk later,” the woman conceded, “But now is not the time nor place.” 

“Very well,” the man agreed as his hands were once again placed behind his back. 

“You’ll be sure I won’t run away this time, Sethy,” Jeralt added. 

The man’s face turns a putrid shade of red as he frowns. “Do not call me that.” 

“Man, the years have sure made you even more of a hardass,” Jeralt goaded as he places a gentle hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “Didn’t think _that_ was possible.” 

“And I can see that you haven’t changed at all,” Seteth snapped, “Not in your maturity or actions. In fact, I doubt that you ever matured beyond five summers-” 

“Jeralt, Seteth,” the woman spoke up again. “Stop this at once.” 

Byleth can feel her magic now. Feel its ancient hymn and power as her eyes glow slightly. 

Seiros, he thinks. And he wonders if it was his thoughts or Sothis’. 

_Seiros. _

“Cease in goading Seteth, Jeralt,” the woman- Seiros?- commanded. “If you continue such… childish behaviors, I’ll have no choice but to partner you with Alois for all foreseeable missions.” 

Jeralt snorts although this time his father kept his mouth shut. 

“Well, let us move past that now,” the woman concluded as she smiles, “Welcome, Byleth to Garreg Mach. I do hope that you’ll come to find it to be, ah, a second home.”

“He’d better,” the man, Seteth, his father called him Seteth, snapped, “If he is to be a professor here.” 

Professor? Byleth thinks as he frowns slightly. 

“I have no doubt that you will find this place familiar,” the woman, Rhea, Byleth thinks firmly as he repeats the name inside his head. Rhea. Rhea continued as she ignores Seteth. “This was your first home and now you’ve finally returned.” 

What- 

“Yeah, good times those were,” Jeralt interrupted as he spins both himself and Byleth around. “We’ll be off now Lady Rhea. See you later.” 

“You impudent-” Seteth calls from behind them as Jeralt waves. “You dare to pardon yourself-”

“Bye Sethy,” Jeralt returned, “Loosen up a little won’t ya.”

Seteth grits his teeth as Rhea places a stern gaze on him. 

“Not that it was ever an issue for you to loosen up before,” Jeralt remarked as he pushes Byleth out of the door, “But times have changed, huh.” 

“You-” Seteth yelled as his cheek blaze with fire before Jeralt closes the door. 

“Well that was fun,” his father said as he pats Byleth’s back.

“That was anything but,” Byleth countered still hearing shrieks from the other room. “And explain.” 

“What ever do you mean,” Jeralt drawled as he shoves Byleth farther away, “Oh dear son of mine.” 

“What she said,” Byleth intoned, “Lady Rhea.” 

Tell me, he thinks, looking up at a man he calls father. Tell me who I am. Tell me what drove us here.

His father huffs as a rough hand messed up his hair once more. “Forget about it for now.”

“Why,” he asked flatly as he ducks under his father’s hand. A silent protest. Why won't you tell me? Why won't you let me understand? Why won't you let me learn of your burden, the way you look at Lady Rhea and Seteth like so? Why, why won't you-

“So childish,” his father bemoaned as he wrings his arm around Byleth’s neck to hold him in place, “But forget about it, I’m serious.” 

To this, Byleth huffs but knows better to press his father. Knowing all too well the iron in the man's eyes and the way his jaw was set tight that no further words would escape from the man. Not today, anyway. 

But the chorus of why, why, why, still rang in his head as he purses his lips.

"What about that man, Seteth," Byleth asked instead, even as his father’s arm flatten against his cheeks, "Talk."

"Oh you know, we had a thing going on back then," Jeralt answered vaguely, but at least he was answering, "Before I met your mother of course."

"Mother?" Byleth knew he had a mother. It was a matter of fact for all children had mothers. But he had never known of his own. She being someone that Jeralt barely spoke of and Byleth never cared enough to wonder. Another thing that his father kept close to his heart that Byleth will never know if it were up to Jeralt.

"He was real handsome back then, still is, actually. Looks like he hasn't aged a day at all," Jeralt continued, ignoring Byleth's visible confusion and question, "And I was pretty handsome myself and well- nature took its course."

What does that even mean? Byleth wonders hysterically. 

Jeralt laughs at his confusion and places a gentle hand on Byleth's hair as he struggles in his father's grip. "We had a lot of fun back then, let's just say."

Byleth huffs as he resigns himself to being stuck to his father in a pseudo hug as the man laughs at his frown. 

“Man, I wish that you’d pout more often,” his father remarked. 

“I’m frowning,” Byleth argued, “Very intensely.” 

“Yeah sure.”

* * *

“I hear you are to become a professor here?” the prince asked, “I would be grateful to have you lead our class.” 

“The Blue Lions not above poaching now?” Claude asked as he sidles up to Dimitri’s shoulder, “I suppose exceptions must be made since our new professor is so… stunning.” 

“Claude,” Dimitri hissed as he tries to shove the other noble off his shoulder, “What are you doing here?” 

“Only doing what’s best for my house,” Claude answered as he continues to lean on the prince’s shoulder. 

“Good job, Claude,” Edelgard said as she joins the conversation. 

“I didn’t do it for you, Your Majesty, but I’ll accept the thanks,” Claude replied easily as he winks at the girl, “Now, getting back to the topic on hand. You’ll find that us Golden Deers are quite relaxed compared to-”

“The Black Eagles strives for perfection, Professor,” Edelgard interjected, “And you would be the perfect candidate to lead us to it.” 

“Do you really want that though, Teach?” Claude asked, his eyes more intense as it focuses on Byleth, “All work and no fun, that house. I say the Golden Deer will bring you much joy and laughter.” 

“The Blue Lions might not be particularly fun or perfect,” Dimitri said, “But we are the most hardworking students you’ll ever see.” 

When will this end? Byleth wonders as he looks up at the sky for a sign. 

Not anytime soon it seems. 

“Later,” Byleth said at last, “Go now, it is late.” 

“But-” they all seem to speak in unison.

“Go,” he commanded with iron in his voice. The same one he had learned from his father. 

“Fine,” Claude said, “Very well, but if you need someone to keep you company-”

Dimitri practically tackles Claude to the ground. “Claude you-” 

“Call me!” Claude yelled as Edelgard also jumps on him. “I’m Claude von Riegan! My room is-” 

“You perverted beast!”

“Says you, Prince ‘Nice Arms!’” 

“I can’t believe that you’re so like Sylvain!” 

“Oh, don’t think that I don’t see that blush earlier you hypocrite-” 

“Beasts, both of you-”

Let them destroy themselves, Byleth thinks as he walks away.

* * *

“What am I doing here?” he asked as the girl sits in front of him once more. Her eyes a frosty glow as embers dance around them both. 

“Seiros,” she said, “Cichol.” 

Figures seem to appear in front of him then, made of green embers and fuzzy at best. Their figures changing and warping but their eyes stayed the same. As though the sculpture who created them had forgotten all else except for their inhumane eyes. 

“It is not them,” Byleth argued, “That is not their name.” 

“It is,” the girl objected back as she stands, “I know it. With all of my heart.” 

Seeing his silence she sighs. “I know it must be true. For I am a goddess and their names rang true.” 

The figures stabilize before dispersing once more. 

“Yet- I can’t remember why,” the girl pondered, “I know them, yes, this I know. Yet, that woman is supposed to be younger than this, more wild and rambunctious and the man is younger still with just a wild of a heart as she.” 

He does not question her now, not when her hands are wrapped around his throat and her eyes burn once more. 

A goddess, he thinks, you don’t question a goddess. 

“Find them,” she commanded, “Find Seiros and Cichol and bring them to me.” 

The figures solidify. One a girl in white armor and green flowing hair, with flowers in her hair and a rapier by her side. Pointed straight at his heart as she smiles. Wild and bestial as a roar echoes behind her as her green locks flow from behind as a figure of a beast appears from behind her. It's two glowing eyes looking at him but its figure was just as blurry as the girl herself.

She looks like Lady Rhea, he thinks distantly. Except her smile was wilder and truer and her stance like a predator. 

Seiros, he thinks, this is Seiros. 

A boy comes into existence behind her, wild hair tied into a low ponytail as he smirks. Arrogant and true as he lifts his axe, his presence unmistakable and his ego well matched. Another beast looms from behind him, its shape differs from the girl but still as divine and monstrous. The roar of dragons shook the room and the girl and boy disperse once more as Sothis groans, tiny hands grasping at her own scalp. 

“Find them,” she rasped as her eyes glow a gentle green, “Find them.” 

A tear slid down her cheek then as she blinks. As though startled as she reaches blindly for her right cheek. He feels himself reaching for his own only to find it wet to the touch. 

A roar of a dragon before Byleth awakens. The image of gods etched into his mind as a goddess' tears disperse into embers as she roars.

He frowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah the whole Seteth and Jeralt thing is basically me chaning canon since its not canon at all lmao. It will be talked about later as I delve more into this fic so I hope you guys will enjoy that! Sothis in this fic has weirder memories than her other fics so keep that in mind as you read as there will be canon divergence! So leave kudo while you're at it lmao. 
> 
> Thank you and please leave a comment on your thoughts, your analysis, what you liked, what you disliked, just anything to make the author super happy! I reply to all the comments! <3


	7. a disastrous skirmish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein the three leaders fight for the right to byleth's hand (in teaching them)

Byleth rises with the sun as he stretches from his bed. Raising his arms above his head as he groans; sliding out of his bed smoothly as he rid himself of his nightwear. A simple dress shirt and his standard pants with a dagger still sitting on his hips and a chest plate over his shirt. 

With aged movements, Byleth dresses himself. Removing the chest plate and shirt gingerly as he looks at himself in the bronze mirror. Finding his distorted image waiting and his mirror image’s finger nearing a scar. One that stretches over his ribs and ends near his back. Deep and lethal. A scar that bled and scarred the same night. 

He can see a goddess in the mirror, her face nearing his nape and her claws around his throat. 

He remembers the fire that burns through his veins that moment and the life that was breathed through him as he slips on the familiar black cloth and dark chest plate. Readjusting his armor as he looks away from the mirror and letting the scar fall out of his mind as he rises for the day. 

The girl unwraps her hands around his throat as she remains in the mirror and he leaves her behind. 

Another woman awaits him, one with identical green eyes and hair. One that the goddess calls Seiros, a woman with a man by her side, one with darker green hair and a name of Cichol.

Find them, she had ordered, find them.

* * *

“Lady Rhea,” he greeted, “Seteth.” 

“At least you’re polite,” Seteth said approvingly, “Unlike your father.” 

Rhea sets a gentle hand on Seteth’s shoulder as she shakes her head gently. “Seteth.”

“I apologize, Lady Rhea.” Seteth bows stiffly, clearly reprimanded, his anger quelled from Rhea’s clear disapproval. 

“I understand your… complex emotions, Seteth, what he did to you- well, I understand the anger,” Rhea said, “But it is no excuse to take it out on his child.” 

“I am not, taking it out on a child, Lady Rhea,” Seteth argued, almost offended, “Do you think me so low, to vent my anger on a child that was never involved?” 

“Emotions are complicated things, Seteth, I would not blame you if it made you go awry,” Rhea explained as she soothes the man. Signing softly as he frowns further. “But you have to learn to let it go, Seteth. Let bygones be bygones.” 

“I suppose.” Seteth shakes his head and bows once more. “I’ll be right outside, Lady Rhea.” 

The man turns to leave, passing Byleth before his rough steps pause. “I do not have any ill will towards you, Byleth, let that be known.” Then, his steps resume once more before the grand doors were shut tight.

“I must apologize.” Rhea nods slightly towards him as she smiles gently. “As he has said himself, Seteth does not hold any anger towards you despite how he may act.” 

He seems to hold plenty of anger, Byleth thinks. Misplaced or not.

_“Cichol wasn’t like that,”_ Sothis argued, _“Cichol was rational and cool-headed, always snapping at Seiros for not doing the same and- and-” _

Then he is not Cichol, Byleth thinks resolutely, no matter his resemblance. 

_Lady Sothis, are you sure you should go with Seiros’ plan, it seems awfully, well, awful-_

A familiar voice- but he had never heard Seteth-

_Argh, I’ve had it with you, Cichol, to slander me in front of my own mother!_

Rhea? No, that wasn’t her. 

“My father,” he said through the voices in his head, “Why does Seteth hate him?”

“It was a dreary affair,” Rhea answered as she shakes her head, her hair spilling over as she sighs, “Terribly tragic and secretive and the rumors around the church were rampant at that time. All fanciful tales and all tragedies. So numerous that even I could not stop them from being spread beyond these walls.”

“What happened?” he asked as she continues. 

“Many tales were told and many rumors were made. And yet, none knows the truth of that affair beyond the two and neither were willing to talk,” Rhea concluded, “Even Seteth refuses to confide in me till this day and I am left to speculate. All I know, from that time until now, is the simple fact that it was a casual affair that tethered too close to the brink of something earnest and collapsed before it could come into fruition.”

“Why hate, then?” Why hate my father for an affair that went wrong? Romance was unstable at best and catastrophic at worst, so why hate when you took a chance that failed? Why hate him, what did he do? 

“Hate, is a weak word to describe what Seteth felt, what he still feels. But I’ve said too much.” Rhea sighs softly. “If you want to know the rest ask Jeralt or Seteth, it is their story to tell.” 

My father won’t tell and Seteth would be more likely to kill me than speak of my father, Byleth thinks, yet he nods. 

“Let’s move onto lighter topics now.” Rhea laughs before she smiles. “No more of this gossip.”

“Me, being a professor,” Byleth prompted as he straightens his back. 

“Exactly,” Rhea confirmed, “It is fortunate that you have come so early to the beginning of the year. The perfect time, in fact, for you to choose a house.” 

“House?” Byleth had never owned a house before and would never want to. The life of a mercenary was mobile and Byleth didn’t want to be tied down, not-

“No, not the house you’re thinking of,” Rhea countered as she laughs, “A house as in a class for you to lead.”

“Lead,” he repeated as he tastes the word around his tongue. Leading was more his father’s skill than Byleth’s own. Ashen Demon was his title, his brand, and he had gotten it through massacres and blood. Not through tactics and certainly not leadership. None had ever called him a great leader or a charismatic one and he never cared. 

And now she expects him to lead some noble brats?

“All three house leaders have assured me that your ability to lead is stellar,” Rhea stated as she smiles, “They spoke quite well of you, in fact.”

He thinks of the three colors then and instinctively knows that they must be the three house leaders that Rhea referred to. 

“They were very impressed with you, Byleth.” Rhea gestures towards the door. “And I trust in their judgment, so now, go, and get to know those houses. Once you’ve made your choice, come back to me.”

He bows towards her, stiff and tense as she dismisses him. As he passes through the hallway he sees a shadow of green. 

What happened between my father and you? He wonders, What causes you to hate him so, that even after years you cannot let it go?

_“Gods do not forget, not our grudges nor our hatred.”_

Gods, he thinks, shouldn’t hate to begin with.

_“Gods are not perfect and our emotions burn brighter than most, bright enough that it is why we choose not to feel at all.”_

Something in that statement rang inside Byleth’s mind. It was important somehow but- how-

_“That is boring, no? You would know that, Byleth.”_

* * *

“Come to feel out the houses, have we?” Claude asked as he invites himself onto the seat next to Byleth, “I would, of course, recommend the Golden Deer-” He pauses before frowning slight, “- and here come Their Highnesses ready to steal you away again. Which is well, let me just say, if there’s one thing they got, it’s sheer stubbornness, Teach, a terrible trait wouldn’t you say?”

“As if you, yourself, isn’t stubborn Claude,” Edelgard said as she sits in front of him, “More stubborn than me and Dimitri together.” 

“I call that grit and perseverance, Your Highnesses,” Claude argued, “Mighty charming traits those are, right, Teach?” 

Byleth shrugs but they seem to take it as an agreement. “Told ya I am Teach’s favorite.” 

“Well, Professor, I must say that the Blue Lions are quite hardworking-” 

Edelgard shoves Dimitri aside.

“The Black Eagles strive for perfection, Professor and if that isn’t the ideal-”

Claude slams his hand on the table as he stands to speak. 

“Us Golden Deers might be relaxed but we-” 

Dimitri stands up as well, pushing Claude away as Claude ducks behind Byleth with gritted teeth.

“The Blue Lions are very-” 

Edelgard also stands as she nudges Dimitri away once more. 

“- Perfection, Professor-”

Claude rises from behind Byleth, still using him as a shield against the prince, which was clever but-

“- Fun and work combined, perfect, no?-” 

Dimitri clears his throat as he smiles, all teeth and stiffness. 

“- Have you heard of Felix? He’s-” 

Edelgard also smiles at him as he pulls on Dimitri’s cape causing him to stumble. She looks slightly more charming, if not a bit psychopathic which, was, well cute. Like a rabid dog. 

“- Petra is the embodiment of-”

Claude throws something, unidentifiable liquid- maybe poison- at Edelgard. 

“- oh man, you must know of Leonie, right? Well she’s-” 

Byleth sighs, as he too, rises. “That is enough. Stand down, all of you.” 

Edelgard barely catches the vial, which was already a good start to this whole conversation. 

“Have you chosen, Teach?” Claude asked idly, pretending as though he hadn’t tried to poison his classmate and all those who were in the dining hall with his little stunt. Admirable effort and utterly shameless. Incredible. 

“No, not yet,” Byleth answered, “But I may have something.” 

“Oh?” Edelgard asked, “Please, do tell us.”

“Fight.” Byleth nods, finding his answer quite agreeable. “With all you have.” 

Claude chokes. “You want us to fight?” 

Byleth nods.

“Isn’t that a bit preferential, Teach? C’mon, delicate o’ me against these two monsters?” Claude frowns. “Isn’t that way too unfair? Do you want my pretty face to be beaten black and blue?”

“With all you have,” Byleth repeated, “Even if that means poisoning them.” 

Claude smiles. “Oh, now we’re talking.”

“Feel free to bring your comrades as well,” Byleth remarked, “The more the merrier.”

They all nod.

“Show me where the battlefield is and we’ll convene there in an hour’s time.” 

“Uh, we don’t have a battlefield, per se, that we can use right now,” Claude said awkwardly, “But we do have a training field.” 

“That will do.”

* * *

“What are we doing here, boar?” a boy with dark hair and ever-increasing frown asked.

“Yeah, what are we doing here, Claude,” the girl with flowers for eyes and hair asked as she pouts, “More specifically, what am _I_ doing here.” 

“We’re fighting,” Dimitri answered as he smiles gently at the boy who looks more disgusted than ever at the, frankly, normal smile. 

“What he said.” Claude smiles slyly as he pulls an arrow from his quiver.

“Wait, what?” the pink-haired girl asked, “You didn’t tell me that!”

“If I did you wouldn’t have come, Hilda,” Claude answered smoothly. 

“Well- Claude- you- okay, that’s certainly true,” Hilda admitted reluctantly, “But did you have to trick me?” 

“Yes.” Hilda fumes even further at the frank reply. 

“That’s all you had to say, boar,” the dark-haired boy said as he smiles lightly and picks a sword from the rack. 

“No, Felix, that’s not all Dimitri had to say,” a boy with messy sunset hair and amber eyes said, “In fact, that’s the worst thing he could’ve said.” 

Felix frowns. “Shut it, Sylvain.” 

“It’s really the worst thing he could’ve said,” the boy with gray hair and green eyes mumbled.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” a girl with orange hair and freckles lining her cheeks cheered, “Don’t worry Ashe, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

“Annette’s right, Ashe, you’ll be fine,” a girl with neatly tied hair and shawl reassured gently, “I’m here to heal if you happened to get injured.” 

“Mercie’s the best healer so you don’t need to worry about a thing!” Annette announced as she pumps her fist. While the girl beside her, Mercedes, laughs into her hands. 

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the best, but I will try my best to heal everyone.” Kind, he notes, though kindness wouldn’t get you far when the enemies’ sword was down your throat. But it would get her far in other aspects, just not on the battlefield. 

If he were to teach her, that’ll need to be rectified. 

Not yet, though, not when there’s a tournament to be held. 

“Are we really going to fight?” Hilda whined. “Really, really?” 

“Yes, really, Hilda, this’ll be for the benefit of our house,” Claude answered. 

“Well, I don’t particularly care about that you see,” Hilda replied as she turns to leave. 

“You would care for a new accessory, wouldn’t you?”

Hilda turns around then. “That’s all you had to say.” 

“Are- are we really fighting?” the girl with blue hair and dark shadows under her eyes asked. 

“Of course, c’mon Marianne, pretty please?” Hilda badgered the girl as she pleads. “For me, your dearest friend?” 

“And me, your dear house leader,” Claude added. “You’re the only one we can count on, Marianne.” 

“R- really?” Marianne bites her lips. “Well- well I’ll try not to get in your way.” 

“Great, so everyone is on board then!” Claude declared. 

“I didn’t agree to this ridiculous idea,” a girl with white hair and coral for eyes argued. 

“No? And here I was counting on our most powerful mage to help us through this battle, too,” Claude whined as his shoulders droop. “How are we going to beat those barbarians now?”

“Me? A barbarian?” a boy with orange hair yelped, affronted. 

“Oh, she describes you perfectly, von Aegir.”

“Didn’t you have Marianne over there for that?” Lysithea crosses her arms. “And now you’re trying to flatter me with the same compliment. Please do keep up with your own words, Claude.” 

“Marianne is the only one who knows how to heal in this house,” Claude answered. And that was concerning information. “So yes, we do need her. But you? You’re a magical powerhouse, Lysithea. So we super need you.” 

The girl blushed and both he and Claude knew she was in. Byleth was faintly impressed at how easy she caved.

“So please?” 

“Very well,” Lysithea relented. “I’ll partake in this farce just once.” 

“Thank you, Lysithea!” Claude cheered as he pats the girl on the back. “I knew you were the best.” 

It seems that a lot of people were the ‘best’ to the house leader. But Byleth didn’t care either way. 

“I’m going to leave now,” the green haired boy from Edelgard’s side announced. “More research awaits.” 

“More sleep more like,” a boy with dark hair and bangs covering one eye said as he yanked him back. “This is your warning Linhardt.”

“Or what,” Linhardt challenged. “You’ll poison my tea, Hubert?” 

“Man, you’ve got to teach me your ways sometimes, Hubert,” Claude remarked. “I mean, you managed to poison even _me_.”

The boy, Hubert ignores him soundly. 

“Why, yes, and more-”

“I’ll do worse than that, Linhardt,” Edelgard warned. “I’ll make sure that you attend brawling lessons with Caspar henceforth.” 

And, oh, that was a very terrible threat indeed by the way Linhardt pales. 

“And here you can see Her Majesty in her natural habitat,” Claude spoke. “Threatening her subordinate like so.” 

Like you weren’t bribing and manipulating them. 

“Says you, Claude,” Dimitri echoed his thoughts. 

“What does that mean, Your Highness-”

“No,” Linhardt gasp. “You cannot-”

“You will find that I can do a lot of things, Lindhardt,” Edelgard answered. “For the good of the Black Eagles.”

That was somewhat foreboding, but Byleth could do well with a motivated student. 

“Fine.” Linhardt swats Hubert’s hand from his collar. “Very well, Edelgard.” 

“J- just look at their faces!” he hears a girl shrieking quietly. “Th- they’re going to kill you Bernadetta!” 

“What’s wrong, Bernadetta?” the boy next to her, orange hair and matching eyes, asked. “Are you nervous perhaps?” 

The girl shrieks.

“Oh dear, do you want to sit out?” the boy offered. “It wouldn’t reflect well on the Aegir line if I were to let you faint in the middle of battle while I could help it.” 

“No- no thank you, Ferdinand,” the girl stuttered. “Hubert would kill me.” 

“That he will,” the boy, Ferdinand something Aegir, agreed. 

Bernadetta lets out a yelp as Hubert’s eyes glance over at the commotion. “N- nothing’s here! Just Bernadetta preparing for b- battle, that’s all!” 

Well, Byleth supposes the girl was smart. Choosing her life over her anxiety. A good trait. 

“C’mon, Felix, are we really going to fight?” Sylvain whined. “I mean, it’s the middle of the day. After class and everything.” 

“You need it the most you mutt,” Felix argued. “Especially with how many skirts you’ve chased this week instead of picking up your lance.” 

“They were mighty fine skirts, I tell you,” Sylvain argued. “If you want I can-” 

A girl with braided hair and forest green eyes performs an uppercut. Well executed, Byleth noted. She must have strong arms as well. 

“Don’t taint Felix’s mind with your lustful ways,” the girl snapped as Sylvain groans. 

“Did you really have to punch me that hard Ingrid?” Sylvain rubs his jaw. “And Felix’s too absorbed with his sword to care anyways.” 

“Then why tell him in the first place?” 

Sylvain shrugs. “I was hoping to educate him on the beauty of romance, as usual.”

“Oh, so she did have a good reason to punch you,” Annette commented. 

“Even I have to agree with her, Sylvain,” Dimitri added. “Truly, you should reflect.” 

“Geez, betrayed by my childhood friends of all things,” Sylvain scoffed as he jumps onto his feet. “So do I have to fight?” 

“If you don’t then I’ll let Ingrid trail you for the rest of this week,” Dimitri threatened. 

“Guess we’re fighting then,” Sylvain said as he grabs a lance. “You sure know where to hit to hurt the most, Dimitri.” 

“I did learn from Felix,” Dimitri quipped. 

“Sounds about right.” Sylvain laughed as he practices swinging the lance. 

“You learned nothing from me, boar,” Felix snapped. “Don’t pretend that animals can learn from humans.” 

“I have told you to not speak to His Highness in such a way.”

“Oh, here comes the lapdog,” Felix groaned as he shoved the other boy, silver hair, dark skinned and impossibly tall. “What, did you defend him hoping for a treat?” 

“Dedue, Felix,” Dimitri called. “Please do stop. We are meant to fight the other houses, not our own.” 

“Learn to control your lapdog better, boar,” Felix snapped.

“And you should learn how to control your tongue better,” Mercedes stated. 

“You-” 

“Really, what has poor Dimitri done to you?” Mercedes queried as she rests her head on her palm. “Did he break your heart perhaps?” 

“You bitch!” Felix roared. 

“Sounds about right,” Hilda inputted. 

“Yeah,” Claude added. “Very plausible.”

“My, is that a scandal about the prince of Faerghus and his future shield?” Edelgard asked dryly. 

_“No,”_ Felix hissed as he charges and well- 

That was how the battle began. 

“Just you wait, you bitch!” Felix yelled. “Once I’m done with these fools you and the boar will be next!”

“Oh, I just can’t wait,” Mercedes said idly. “Until I have to heal you.” 

“You bitch!” Felix shouted as he attempted to skewer Hilda. 

“Watch it!” Hilda yelped. “I’m a delicate maiden.” 

“Not-so-delicate when you were insulting my honor, were you?” Felix argued as he slashes at her. “If you really were delicate then you’d. Stayed. Still!”

“Hey, would someone help me?” Hilda requested as she fought off Felix’s strikes with her own axe. “I’m just a delicate girl, after all.” 

“Man, you’re sure holding up okay for a frail maiden,” Claude commented as he watches on the sidelines. “I don’t know if you really need help or not…” 

“I swear, Claude, you’re buying me so many bracelets-” Hilda yells as Felix lands a hit on her. “Oh, I’ve had it!” 

“This is the strategy,” Linhardt said as he yawns. “Mutual destruction and we win.” 

He gestures towards Hilda and Felix. “See? Perfect.” 

That was when Ferdinand charges in. 

“What-” Linhardt choked. 

“It wouldn’t be a fair and honorable duel,” Ferdinand argued. “If we just sit on the sidelines.” 

“No-” 

“And I, Ferdinand von Aegir am nothing but fair and honorable,” Ferdinand von Aegir declared as he forges straight towards the pair locked in combat.

“Idiotic is more like it,” Hubert hissed as he begins chanting. “Well, now that von Aegir has ruined our plans it’s time for us to win by force.” 

“We had a plan?” the blue haired boy asked as he frowns. “Huh, didn’t know that.” 

“We never had a plan, Caspar,” Linhardt said. “But whatever plan we might’ve had is already ruined by Ferdinand’s inane move.” 

“Inane? Is that like intelligent or something?” Caspar questioned as he adjusts his gloves. “Because that was what Ferdinand’s charge was.” 

_“It was the opposite,”_ Linhardt argued. “And are you planning-”

“It’s time for me to join the battle now, to help Ferdinand and all that!” Caspar announced as he runs off. 

It was a ‘good’ for enthusiasm but a ‘could do better’ for execution, Byleth noted as he watched the boy get hit on the face by Ferdinand’s lance. And then subsequently kicked and punched by Hilda and Felix respectively. 

“Caspar!” Ferdinand called as the boy goes down. 

“I knew it,” Linhardt sighed. 

And I saw that coming as well, Byleth agreed. 

“My friend!” Ferdinand yelled as he drops his lance. “Caspar, my comrade, what happened?” 

Caspar groaned.

“Who was it?” Ferdinand shook Caspar’s pained body. “Was it Felix? Hilda?” 

Byleth could see what Caspar wanted to say. Could see what Linhardt and Hubert wanted to say, but was either out of energy or too busy chanting a spell to say. 

You, it was you. 

“Don’t tell me,” Ferdinand gasped, probably coming to some absurd conclusion. “They landed a sneak attack on you?” 

It was you- Caspar tried to say with his eyes. But I don’t blame you-

“Which house was it?” Ferdinand dropped Caspar back straight to the ground as he picks up his lance. “It must’ve been the both of them, to take you out so quickly. Don’t worry, Caspar. I’ll get justice for you!”

Caspar wheezes as Ferdinand’s lance accidentally his him as the noble swung it. 

Von Aegir didn’t even notice. And that was perhaps even more impressive. 

Linhardt approaches the zone as his hands lit up. A holy light they were. Healing magic, at least someone from this house knew how to heal. 

He was intercepted by an arrow to his head as he drops. 

“Linhardt!” he hears Bernadetta yelps. “Oh my Goddess, I- I’m so sorry!” 

It was part mutual destruction, Byleth notes. And part self destruction. 

Linhardt didn’t reply as his forehead continues to bleed. 

“Another one?” Ferdinand yelped. “Does your dirty tricks show no bounds?” 

“It wasn’t me!” Claude denied quickly. “See? All my arrows are stocked.” 

Ferdinand pauses for a moment, studying Claude’s quiver. As if that was really going to prove anything. Byleth doubts that Ferdinand knew how many arrows Claude had to begin with-

Ferdinand was promptly shot in the forehead by Claude. 

“_That_, my friend,” Claude said. “Is a trick.” 

Ferdinand crumbles to the ground and Byleth knew then that the arrows were definitely poisoned. As Ferdinand falls without nary a word passing through his lips. 

“You incompetent fool!” Hubert yelled as fire roars from behind him. Crashing into Hilda and Felix both. Consequently singing Ferdinand as well. 

But Hubert probably had wanted to aim it at the Aegir heir to begin with. 

“Hey, you can’t just interrupt their duel like that!” Annette declared as she spreads her hand. A powerful gust of wind appeared and as it flies towards Hubert it-

Comes into contact with the flames and causing the fire to implode even further. 

Which was, well, a tactic?

But probably not what she was going for. 

A lot of teaching awaits, Byleth thinks idly. 

“Hilda?” Claude yelled. “You okay in there?” 

Another archer, with glasses and light beige hair gulps. “I don’t think anyone within that fire is okay, Claude.”

“Oh, hush, Ignatz,” Lysithea inputted. “It’s Hilda, she’ll be fine.” 

“I am not!” Hilda yelled as the fire dispersed. Her cheeks redder than the flames itself. “Do you see this?” She gestures towards her singed hair and uniform as she dodges from Felix. “This, is a crime!” 

“Fight me seriously woman!” Felix shouted as he charges her. The girl lets out a frustrated groan as he did so.

“Oh, would it hurt you to lay off sometimes, Felix?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Sylvain interjected as he blocks a blow to Felix’s head. “He’s more likely train ‘til exhaustion than relax.” 

“Two in one?” Hilda yelped. “Are you kidding me? What happened to chivalry from the Blue Lions?”

“‘Fraid that don’t count much right now, Hilda,” Sylvain said as he pushes her back. “Pretty ladies are on the line here.” 

“Aren’t I pretty?” Hilda retorted as she spins around, kicking Sylvain’s nose. “That’s an awful insult, Sylvain. See if _I_ ever call you handsome again.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Dimitri threatened me,” Sylvain retorted, nose red. “You’re plenty pretty yourself, though, Hilda. It’s just that-”

“Don’t think that flattering me-” Hilda brings down her axe. “Will get. You. Out. Of. This!” 

“Yeah, show that player Hilda!” Claude cheered. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri warned. “If you get tempted-” 

“Got it, got it.” Sylvain starts parrying Hilda as she attempts to fight off both him and Felix. 

“Hey, some help?” Hilda called again. Getting worn down from the relentless assault. 

“I can’t fire without you getting injured,” Lysithea explained. Her hands consumed by a dark glow as she frowns. Trying to aim and not get Hilda caught in her spell. A hard task that was, with how much Hilda moved. 

A girl with orange hair jumped in then. 

“Oh, Leonie!” Hilda greeted with a smile as she throws Felix off her. “Thank the Goddess you’re here!” Leonie, the girl with orange hair, arrives just as Felix falls to the ground. Letting out a groan as he did so. 

“Oh, are you alright Felix?” Mercedes leans down as her hands glow with a gentle light. “My, I didn’t think you’d need my healing so soon.” 

That, Byleth notes. Was probably more effective than any healing spell she would’ve casted as he watched as the boy jumps to his feet once more. “Bah, I need not your healing, not for an easy fight like this.” 

Strong words. Coming from someone who was halfway limping with singed hair and bloody knuckles. Which was odd, considering he was using a sword. 

Hubert lets out another fire spell then as Felix pushes Hilda straight into it. The girl letting out a yelp as she sees the flames coming before yanking on something to block the flames. 

The thing, as Byleth notes. Was a boy. Well built with tanned skin and light blond hair.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Raphael!” Hilda gasped as she kicked Sylvain back. “I didn’t mean to do that!” 

You did, Byleth thought. You really did. 

“No worries, Hilda!” Raphael said cheerfully. “I’m glad to have protected ya!” 

“So sweet!” Hilda croon as she punches Felix with one arm and bringing up her axe to block Sylvain’s swing with another. “If only a certain someone else would be sweet as well.” 

“Is she complaining about me?” Claude asked idly. “That couldn’t possibly be true, right, Lysithea?” 

Lysithea only grunted. Still focused on trying to gain the perfect shot to care about what Claude was saying. 

“I knew it!” 

“She was talking about you Claude,” Edelgard stated as she leans on her axe. 

“No doubt about it,” Dimitri agreed nodding sagely. 

“Hey, you guys aren’t helping either,” Claude pointed out. 

“Well, do you hear them asking for our help?” Edelgard asked as she gestures towards the fight.

Wherein both of her melee fighter and healer was down, so Byleth suppose they couldn’t have asked for help even if they wanted to. 

"But I supposed it's time for me to take this fight seriously," Edelgard said as she dashes towards the skirmish. “Come, Petra.” 

“Gladly!” the girl, Petra answered happily. 

"And I shall join you," Dimitri said as he also dashes towards her. Dedue gave a grunt of affirmation as he trails the prince. 

"Go on, Claude, join them!" Hilda ordered shrilly as she dodges Sylvain.

"Yeah, no, I don't feel like-” A rough hand grabs Claude’s collar as a boy with purple hair and odd haircut jostled him. “Now, Claude that is no way for a leader to-” 

“Claude, Lorenz!” Raphael shouted as he grabs them both. “How nice of ya to join us!” 

“Well-” Claude began but was interrupted as he was tossed into the fray as well. Some of his arrows flying out of his quiver. “Shit-” 

“Dimitri!” Annette yelled as she watches the arrows descending. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you!”

She was channeling her wind magic once more as her hair and uniform begin to flutter with the current. 

"Lady Edelgard!" Hubert yelled as well, Byleth feeling the heat of the fire as the boy begins chanting and oh-

“Hah, I’ll get rid of them real quick,” Lysithea said as she begins to let loose. 

Oh, a disaster. 

“A- a spider!” Bernadetta yelled as she falls back. Falling on Hubert as Byleth watch with wide eyes as Hubert trips. Setting loose his inferno before it was ready as he falls towards the flames of his own creation. “Hubert!” 

Byleth winces. Self-destruction seems to be the favored strategy of the day.

Moments later both wind and miasma exploded as Lysithea and Annette let loose at the sound of panicked screams from Bernadetta.

“Wait, Claude, when were _you_ there?” Lysithea asked with panic in her voice.

“What-” Claude was the first to experience the miasma as it consumes his head. 

“Darn,” Lysithea cursed as she falls to her knees, exhausted. “Why were you there, Claude?” 

Mutual destruction. No- that wasn't right. Byleth frowns as he thinks

“Hah, we won Mercie!” Annette cheered as she watched as the golden deer falls one by one, from the miasma created by their own comrades. 

Double self-destruction then?

“Yes, good jo- oh.” 

It wasn’t hard to see what Mercedes was seeing as-

Self-decimation, Byleth decided. 

The flames come into contact with Annette’s spell setting off another explosion. This time taking all participants in the skirmish with them, with all combatants taken out in one fell swoop. Which was a clever tactic, Byleth supposes, not that the girl had planned on taking out her classmates with the attack. And if she did then, well, she must be an excellent actor and a truly callous heart, traits which Byleth did not mind seeing in an aspiring gremory. 

“Oh dear.” 

This whole match was a disaster. But Byleth would say that they did use some very unique tactics. As terrible as they were.

“Well, the Blue Lions won,” Byleth announced. Noting the three standing members of the house in contrast to the one from the others. Bernadetta and Marianne who looked like they would faint very soon and very quickly if he even suggests they fight. 

It seems that this would be quite the arduous experience, Byleth thought as he stares at the fallen body of Dimitri, Sylvain, Felix and Dedue. 

"Can't wait to hold this over their heads forever," Ingrid said. "Serves them right for being such idiots."

I regret relenting to Rhea so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was more lighthearted than the other ones since I just really want to write all the characters together lmao.
> 
> Also this fic's schedule has been changed to every other week with longer chapters!
> 
> Leave a kudo and comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't like, I enjoy reading and replying to them all! <3


	8. the blue lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth meets his students (again), and they were more or less what he'd expected. 
> 
> Dimitri would like to say that his fellow Blue Lions are better than this, but that would be lying.

“I have decided,” Byleth said to Rhea. “That I will be teaching the Blue Lions.” 

“An awfully quick decision,” Seteth remarked sharply. Eyes piercing as he studies Byleth, as though looking for any chinks in Byleth’s armor. “Almost as if you didn’t think at-”

“Seteth,” Rhea called sternly. Her hands still clasped in front of her, but her shoulders were tense and arms seemingly ready to pounce. Making him wonder why, why she has all the makings and instincts of a warrior but appeared as nothing more than a woman of noble disposition and high status. 

_“Because she is a warrior.”_

“I did think,” Byleth argued.

Seteth scoffs, obviously unbelieving, but did not comment any further. Cowed by Rhea’s harsh glare and stern reminder. 

“Perhaps you had something to do with the explosion that took place earlier?” Hanneman questioned. Hand placed under his chin as he contemplates. Gears already jogging inside the man’s head. 

“You mean the reason why so many students came to the infirmary today?” Manuela scowls as she inspects her nails. Chipped and cracked in a few places, something that obviously did not please Manuela, but it seems as though it was something that she was used to. “More specifically, just a mere hour ago?”

Byleth nods. 

“So it _was_ you,” Hanneman exclaimed. The man was pleased, this Byleth could tell, that he had guessed correctly. 

“What did you do to them?” Manuela asked, arms crossed as she stares him down. 

“They fought,” Byleth answered simply. 

“Against each other?” Manuela quirks a fine eyebrow. “Like a mock battle?” 

Byleth nods. 

“Well.” Manuela stops frowning at him, coming to smile instead and he wonders just how many drinks she’d had. “Invite me and Hanneboy over there next time, yes?” 

Hanneman groans. “Goddess, Manuela, when will you stop calling me that?” 

“Oh, it’s quite funny that you’d think I’d stop,” Manuela drawled. “After what you did to me on that day on the second of the wyvern moon.” 

Hanneman blanks for a moment. The man’s eyes glazing over as he digs through his memory. And Byleth can see the exact moment that he managed to recall exactly what Manuela was talking about. An impressive feat really, to be able to recall down to the day. 

“You mean when I won that bet?” Hanneman raises his brows. Shocked and displeased all rolled into one. “That is the reason?” 

“Because of that damned bet, I couldn’t drink for one whole month you-”

“You took that bet, and I-”

“One whole month-”

“Fair and square-”

“Stop this foolishness,” Seteth snapped, raising both his hands. Frowning intensely as he glares between the two professors. The two ceasing their shouting match but still bristling at the other. If they were hedgehogs, Byleth thinks. Quills would already be flying by now. It was lucky they weren’t though, because then Byleth would be stuck right in the middle of the crossfire. 

In fact, Byleth didn’t like his position right now. Not when he was stuck between two adults trying to murder the other with their eyes and thinly veiled mouthed words. Not when he was sure that if it came down to it, Seteth would no doubt add into the fighting. 

Seteth looked like an orderly and passive man. But Byleth can never be too sure. 

_“Cichol, passive? Ha, never.”_

Byleth takes a few steps backwards after giving a quick bow to Rhea. “I’ll be taking my leave.” 

He turns around quickly after Rhea waves him off with a kind smile. Even as Seteth gave an affronted scoff from behind him.

* * *

He walks with idle stride towards the Blue Lions classroom. Pausing here and now to ask some meandering student or passing soldier on the location of said classroom. He had no doubt that the house’s leader would’ve said something about wanting to accompany him or whatnot to make sure that Byleth would not be lost. 

He certainly seem like the type to fuss. 

And Byleth very much did not like others fussing over him. In fact, he only tolerated Jeralt. And even then, it was always a delicate balance between father and son on how much fussing was ‘too much.’ 

_“Your father certainly seems like the type as well. Despite this exterior,”_ Sothis commented idly._ “In fact, all parents, the good ones at least, all fuss over their children in someway.”_

He felt as though she was bragging but did not know how. 

What would you know about being a parent? He wondered as he memorizes the walls and path to his destination. Marking his path with little divots with his boots and tracing the stone that makes up the buildings with his eyes. 

_“A lot, I know a lot,”_ Sothis said faintly. Almost pained._ “In fact…. Huh…” _

He felt something inside his heart gave a beat. 

But surely it must not be his heart. 

_“Oh, I forgot again,”_ Sothis sighed._ “No matter. It’ll all come together, eventually.”_

He wonders where she got that confidence from. Even for a goddess, her utter nonchalance was impressive at best and terrifying at worst. 

_“Why, thank you, Byleth.”_ A small giggle._ “I’m in no rush, you see. After all, wouldn’t it be a boring tale if I recover my memories so easily? No, no, I don’t want a boring story.”_

A soft sigh. 

_ “I want an interesting tale. An epic. I want strife, I want conflict. I want struggles, I want to see challenge.”_

The yearning. He can feel it resonates within him. He can feel something within him reaching out. Like branches from a dying tree, reaching out towards the sky. With desperation and want. Praying for the rain that will never come. Like a lover reaching out towards her lover who had long abandoned her. Wanting, yearning. For- for something. 

It lasted for a brief moment before Sothis sighs. 

_“So just live as you do, Byleth. And the tale will be written from there.”_

He did not want the tale that she described. For he fancied himself a boring and drab man, who want for nothing but battle and routine. 

But, alas, who was he to reject a goddess’ vision?

* * *

“Oh, its you!” Annette greeted. Her hair somewhat dishevelled but her uniform was overall orderly. Not that Byleth particularly cared for the way his students dressed. 

“Me.” A nod as he walks to the center of the room. Eyes slowly rowing over the room as he looks at every nook and cranny as best he could. Hearing the sound of footsteps as the students, his new students, stand up to surround him. 

Which was suffocating and entirely unnecessary. 

“Are you really our professor now?” Mercie asked peering up at him with gentle eyes. 

Terrible eyes for a future soldier. But he supposes that was why he was here. 

“Yes.” Another nod. Staring straight at her as he ignores the other eyes boring into his armor. 

“So, the tournament thing was actually, uh, a thing?” Sylvain asked as he plays with his new hair. Slightly shorter from the fire that had transpired during the battle. 

“Yes.” Another nod. 

“Cool,” Sylvain replied. Smile no less strained from the cold treatment. His eyes, Byleth notes, were much less kind than Mercie. More like the soldier that he will be trained to become and less like a student that he is. If Byleth were to compare, he would akin the boy to a fox, perhaps, with its sly eyes and always smiling lips. Waiting for him to turn around to attack. Playing around with its prey before it strikes. 

Good, that’ll be one less thing Byleth will have to beat out of him. 

_“Cool?”_ Dimitri repeated, almost affronted. “Did you just say that to our new professor, Sylvain?”

“Yep,” Sylvain drawled. His smile staying pleasant as before. “Oh, come on, you can’t blame me.” 

“I don’t need a reason to blame you, mutt,” an airy voice spoke as Sylvain as pulled into a chokehold. Having to bend down to accommodate Felix’s shorter stature. 

“Oh hey, Felix,” Sylvain choked out. Patting on the other boy’s arm hoping to disengage him. “Defending our new professor, now, aren’t ya.” 

“No,” Felix denied quickly. “It’s just that your face is slightly more annoying than usual.” 

“You mean lecherous,” Ingrid said as she crosses her arms. 

Felix grunted. 

“Woah, hey,” Sylvian protested as he stands up straight once more, causing Felix to let go off his chokehold with a snort. “It’s not my fault the new professor is an attractive man.” 

“The fuck,” Felix said eloquently, cracking his knuckles. 

“Yes, I agree with Felix,” Ingrid said, staring at Sylvain blankly. “But with less crassness.”

_ “Sylvain, you-”_ Dimitri, almost, shouted. Face fuming and paling at the same time as he switches between panic and indignation at his friend’s, or what Byleth assumes to be his friend anyways, utter disregard for manners. 

“Hey I haven’t hit on him yet,” Sylvain argued. Raising his hands up in surrender as he laughs lightly. 

_“Yet?”_

“‘sides, Prof here doesn’t look like he minds,” Sylvain said, glancing towards Byleth’s impassive face. 

_“Prof?”_

Byleth shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

Dimitri deflates very quickly, as all his indignation seems to fall away as Sylvain pats Byleth’s shoulder in comraderie or some such. “See?”

“Even though he doesn’t mind,” Dimitri spoke pointedly, palming his forehead as he sighs heavily. “It would do you well to mind your manners, Sylvain.” 

“Sure, sure, Your Highness,” Sylvain acquiesced, surprisingly easily. Though, now that Byleth considers it, the boy didn’t seem like he’d care to argue much. 

“Sylvain, don’t call me that. How many times-” Dimitri said, mainly on instinct. As he stands straight once more. With his spine straightening out and his posture as prim and princely as it were from moments prior. 

“See? You told us not to be so formal in Garreg Mach and now you’re lecturing me on propriety?” Sylvain shakes his head. “Why, if I didn’t know any better. I’d say that would be hypocrisy, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri was tethering on the edge of indignation once more.

“You dare insult His Highness-” Dedue spoke as he makes his presence known from a few paces behind Dimitri. Back also straighter than it was previously, although still bowed, making his figure smaller than it actually was. 

“Dedue, not you too,” Dimitri groaned. “As for you, Sylvain. I’d argue that the circumstances are-” 

“- quite similar, right?” Sylvain places his hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “After all, I don’t teach Prof here minds much.” 

Byleth shrugs.

“Still.” Dimitri frowns as he contemplates. Obviously still unsure as doubt surges in his blue, blue eyes.

“Call me what you wish,” Byleth said at last. “Doesn’t matter.” 

“The man said it himself,” Sylvain declared. “So who are we to argue, right?” 

“... I suppose,” Dimitri agreed reluctantly. Almost like drawing blood out of stone as he acquiesced. 

“Pathetic,” Felix drawled. “Losing an argument to the mutt once more.” 

Ingrid shakes her head as well. Although she did not look any surprised by how the argument ended or who was the victor. “Well, Sylvian has his ways.” 

“That sure doesn’t feel like a compliment.” Sylvain laughs. Swinging his arm to rest behind his head. Idle and casual, but there was a way about him that made him feel markedly _not_ as idle and casual as he tries to portray himself. Rather, he felt more dangerous in a way. 

Foxes, Byleth thinks. Foxes and snakes. 

All good animals. 

“It isn’t,” Ingrid and Felix intoned at the same time. 

“Anyways,” Sylvain started as he turns away from the vicious duo, “I’ll be looking forward to seeing more of you, Prof.” A wink. 

Byleth hasn’t seen that in a while. Not directed at him, anyways. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri groaned as he pulls the other boy away. “Do not flirt with our professor.”

Sylvain clicks his tongue. “Sure, sure.” 

Byleth doubts that Sylvain would listen. 

After tossing Sylvain back to Felix and Ingrid, Dimitri clears his throat. “Well, I suppose you must know Sylvain’s name by now and his… slightly more than laissez-faire way of acting.”

Byleth nods. 

“As for the rest of the class-” 

“I know,” Byleth interrupted, bringing up his hand. “I know their names.” 

“Uh.” Dimitri blinks, shocked that his prepared speech has been disrupted. 

“From the battle,” Byleth clarified. “Earlier.” 

“Oh, I see,” Dimitri said faintly. Clearing his throat as he regains his composure with each passing moment. A good trait for a future king. “That’s good.” 

“Really?” Annette queried as she approaches him, dragging her friend Mercie with her. “Do you know my name then?” 

Was this her way of challenging his claim? Pretending to be excited to test his answer? Wanting to see if he would fumble before her? She certainly didn’t feel like she was testing him. For there was nothing but pure excitement in her round grey eyes. But still, was it perhaps her acting, or was she genuinely curious? 

“Annette,” Byleth answered, observing her reaction. 

“Oh so you did know my name!” Annette cheered as she laughs. No hint of dismay on her features. 

But the questioning and her timing… 

Byleth stores that thought away for later. 

“What about her?” Annette asked again, pushing her friend to stand before her. Nothing but excitement and anticipation in her cloudy gray eyes. “Do you know her name?” 

Really, are you just curious or doubtful? 

Byleth cannot read an accurate read on Annette, cannot see if there was anything behind her cheer and the ways her eyes sparkle. He admits that the thought infuriates him slightly. But regardless. 

“Mercie,” he answered readily. Watching as the girl and her friend giggle. As though they were amused by his answer. 

“No, silly,” the girl said, giggling into her hands. “It’s not Mercie.” 

He frowns slightly, feeling as though he’d been insulted. “You called her that, earlier.” 

“It’s a nickname,” Annette said, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Although I doubt that Mercie will mind-” 

“My, Annie, you silly girl,” Not-Mercie said lightly as she taps her friend’s back. “I doubt that our new professor will want to call me by a nickname of all things.” 

Annette pouts. “But it’s cute.” 

“Prof doesn’t seem like he’s one for cuteness,” Sylvain commented idly. “But, hey, if it’s you Mercedes-”

Feeling as though he’s being taunted, or worse, insulted, Byleth steps in. “Mercedes, noted.” 

Her name is odd around his tongue. A forgein name that doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like ‘Mercie,’ but Byleth was not about to start using nicknames and the thought of his father finding that he’d been calling his students as such, even if just for the reason that it was easier to pronounce, scares him. 

The teasing from Jeralt would be relentless, and Byleth would rather not deal with that. 

“Do you not need to know anything further about us?” Dimitri questioned. Trying to hide the frown that was slowly forming, disrupting his calm visage from moments prior. Or perhaps not even realizing that he was starting to frown at all. “Nothing beyond our names?” 

“I am here to teach,” Byleth answered bluntly. Watching as Dimitri falter, his frown more obvious to the eye now as though Byleth had answered incorrectly. Byleth doesn’t care about others' opinions, but- 

Dimitri looked like a kicked dog, a kicked rabid dog. And Byleth has always been partial to feral canines. 

“Personal experience is best,” Byleth continued, watching as Dimitri registers his word. His frown lessening as he does so. 

“You mean to say that… you’d prefer to learn about us by interacting with us instead?” Dimitri interpreted. “Rather than through introduction alone?” 

Byleth nods, finding that the weight in his chest was lighter now as Dimitri no longer look like a kicked dog. 

“As expected of our future professor,” Dimitri praised, smiling as he does so. 

It is a nice smile, Byleth will admit. One fitting of a king, but never good for a soldier. 

“Bah, leave me out of this talk of camaraderie,” Felix scoffed as he crossed his arms. “I’d rather praise our professor after crossing swords with him.” 

“Blunt as always, huh, Felix,” Sylvain remarked idly to which his classmate gives him a harsh shove for. “Ouch.” 

Dimitri winces, but only for a split moment before his expression was calm once more. “Regardless, I’ll look forward to knowing you as well, Professor. As I hope you’ll get to know the rest of us Blue Lions.” 

Byleth nods. 

Dimitri offers his hand. Smiling as he does so, looking more like an equal rather than a prince addressing a mercenary or a student addressing his teacher. His smile is kind, Byleth notes. Too kind for a soldier and too gentle for a future king in this violent world. His eyes, though, his eyes were too dark for a mere prince and more like a beast. The glint harsh and dangerous, burning with something, something animalistic and primal. Slight as it was, it was strong, Byleth notes. Like a fire that wanted to burn everything within its reach. Only a mere blaze now, but, but, it has potential. 

Potential that Byleth could use. 

A good soldier, you’ll be, Byleth thinks. 

A good man, never, Byleth thinks. But the world doesn’t need a good man as its king, for good men cannot survive in Fodlan, not when rumors of war and rebellions were on the rise in the streets and alleys of all of Fodlan. Not when territorial disputes grows more tense between each country as the days pass. Not when tensions were building and nobles were plotting. All readying for something, something big. 

All readying for something like war. 

Sothis laughs.

Something that Byleth hopes will not happen. But, but-

I’ll make you a good killer, Byleth thinks as he takes the boy’s hand. I’ll make sure that you’ll survive. 

The flame from the candle seems to blaze to life at that moment. Sparking to life as though compelled by some divine force as their hands made contact. Outlining Dimitri’s figure in a warm light as Byleth shakes his hand. As Dimitri’s eyes glow in the soft amber light and his lips quirked. Deceptively gentle for a man who had a beast lurking in his eyes. 

As Byleth shakes hands with the future king of Faerghus he feels something inside his heart come to life for a split second. 

_“Your path will be one of tragedies.”_ Small giggles._ “But, ah. It’ll be very interesting indeed.”_

This is the moment that marks the beginning of his fate.

* * *

Byleth did not need to lecture them that day. More spending time to question their expertise and skills. Not their dreams, for dreams are useless when it comes to talent, or the lack thereof. 

He makes sure to inform them of further testing of their skills next time. Watching as Felix seems to puff up with excitement as Sylvain slumps over, groaning. 

“Dismissed,” Byleth said as he heads towards the entrance, nodding to them slightly before he departs from his podium. 

He closes the door gently behind him. Lighting a candle with a small fire spell as he does so. Byleth was normally a man of nature, preferring to let the moon and sun be his light instead, but as it were, his room did not have a window to speak of and Byleth would prefer to not be fumbling in the dark. 

A brief shimmer, as though fireflies were gathering before his eyes and Sothis appears once more. Divine and young as she manifests, eyes bright and glowing, light brighter than that of the moon itself. 

“I want to test something,” she said as she glides over to him. Her figure suspended in the air, as though the ground would dirty her feet. 

He looks up at her questioningly. 

She unsheathes his dagger, pressing it to his neck as she smiles. Primal and chilling. Like a beast of old as her eyes blink up at him unnervingly while her smile does not reach beyond her lips. Her smile even colder than the blade that presses against his neck and her touch even lighter than his heart beat. She trails the blade dangerously close to his vein, ready to cut and yet still idling. Not out of hesitation, for goddesses do not fear nor falter, but more like she was playing with him. Like how a beast would play with its food before ending its life.

With eyes of a god and a mortal's dagger made divine in her hands, she says:

“Die for me.”

Byleth lowers his eyes and nods. Bringing his own neck towards the blade as Sothis smiles, sweetly and gently as she says: 

"Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Sylvain is my favorite character to write. This boy carries the blue lions comedy and humor and its a miracle his back hasn't broke yet from the weight of it lol. i really enjoy writing all the characters interacting so I hope you did, too. and Byleth and Sothis are a bit more different in this fic than canon, I would like to repeat haha. next chapter should be the mock battle (hopefully) so I hope y'all will enjoy that!
> 
> Please leave a kudo and comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you disliked, you analysis just anything, really, to warm my cold dead heart.


	9. heat addict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth becomes dangerously interested in death and Sothis is a dangerous enabler. Dimitri takes the first step in developing a conspiracy theory about his new professor.

Byleth’s veins roar with a fiery vengeance. Sparking to life as black washes over his vision and he is submerged in his own blood once more. Closing his eyes and opening a few moments later to a holy tomb with a goddess awaiting his awakening. 

She looks at him, her lips stretched in an untamed smile. She lifts her hand, the other still holding a dagger- his dagger, holding his chin up. 

“Wake up, now.” He can barely hear the words through the rush of blood in his ears and the ways his veins sparked with fire and the phantom beat of his own heart. His mind muddled and his throat locks as he looks up at her. 

She laughs. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Warm- his veins were warm- 

“Oh, but I’m quite impatient, you know,” she commented idly, playing with the dagger in her hands, “So let me repeat it once more- wake up.” 

Byleth was on his knees- how, what?- head sinking into Sothis’ hands and body humming with a pleasant heat. Head buzzing as though he was lacking air and yet breathing in too much all at once. 

Decidedly pleasant, he thinks through the haze. 

“Like a child, you know, I think I like you like this” Sothis remarked, her voice softening. Yet, when she raises the dagger her eyes turn harsh and sharp, just like the weapon she wielded. “But enough is enough.” 

She presses the dagger to his neck and-

The heat disperses once more as his vision fades to black. 

Byleth awakens with all too cold veins and a dead heart. But- 

_ “Mother!” the girl called, waving her hand, “You won’t believe what Maculi did today!”_

_“What?” he asked back, smiling softly. _

_“Oh, he-”_

He reaches to his ears, wincing as the voices turn into a high pitched whine before fading once more. Feeling his veins turning cooler by the minute as he clasps as his arms, hoping to regain the warmth from earlier. Yet, it still slips through his fingers. 

Sothis grabs his chin once more, lifting his face up towards her. 

She looked thrilled, he thinks. Her eyes wide and shining and her grin stretching. 

“You heard it, right?” she asked, a touch of desperation and ecstasy in her voice, “you heard them, right?” 

He nods. 

“It’s working,” she gasped, something wild and dangerous glinting in her eyes, “I knew we were connected.” 

She lifts up the dagger once more. Her intent obvious. 

Her eyes shining with an expectant light as she holds out the blade once more, tip dangerously threading against his neck. 

He looks up at her, then at the mirror that stands behind her. He sees himself, with a scar fresh on his neck, deep and scarring. He remembers the pain, remembers how much it had hurt and how much he had bled. 

But- but- 

He looks down at the dagger. Seeing his eyes reflected in it, already knowing his answer. 

He grabs the dagger himself, bringing it to his own neck as flames roar through his veins once more as he falls back onto his bed. 

He hears Sothis laugh and he, too, laughs with her as he chokes on his own blood. 

His heart feels like it was beating in tandem with his laughter. And as he weakly brings his hand up to feel if there really was a heartbeat, Byleth dies once more. 

“Wake up soon, won’t you?” Sothis asked softly, fingers trailing his cold cheeks fondly, “Just a mere second of my children aren’t enough.” 

_“Mother! Cichol-”_

His blood cools on her fingers. 

_ “Seiros, you silly girl-”_

“Die lots for me, okay?”

* * *

It comes to an end, as all things must. For it seemed that Byleth’s body had exhausted itself after a few more deaths. As his wounds began healing slower and the pain worsening with each subsequent slash. 

The fire blazes even hotter each time, and he swears that his heart sparks to life more vibrantly with each. 

When the morning comes Byleth awakens to bloodstained sheets and a goddess laying on his chest, idly tracing the scars on his neck, as though that would bring more of her memories back. 

“You’re awake,” Sothis greeted, glancing up towards his eyes, “I was starting to think that you were dead.” She laughs at her own joke even as he stares at her blankly. 

She levitates off of him, turning to occupy the space next to him instead as she closes her eyes. “Now off you go.” He can feel her nudging him off his own bed and he stands up, turning around to face red stains that covered a substantial portion of his bed. 

While Byleth was no neat freak he felt as though he needed to wash the sheets or get new ones. Perhaps get a new bed while he was at it. 

Sothis, as if reading his thoughts, waves him off. “Bah, doesn’t matter. And, besides, how are you going to wash all this blood off?” 

Byleth seriously considers her question, finding that getting rid of the stain would be near impossible and a mighty arduous task. 

But still- 

“We’d be doing this near every night, you know,” Sothis commented, eyes still closed and hands folded atop her chest, “are you going to rid of the stains every morning from now forth?” 

He does not question the new schedule that she had put upon him, rather it was the questionable cleanliness of-

“Are you scared of your own blood?” Sothis scorned, opening one eye just to give him a flat stare, “Back in my day-” 

Byleth yanks the sheets off the bed, folding it up so that the stains wouldn’t be seen as he turns to leave. 

“Going to burn it?” she asked, already knowing what he wanted to do, “Are you going to burn every new sheet, then?” 

“I’ll think of something,” he said, walking outside to a quiet place to burn his sheets. Sothis scoffing at him before closing both her eyes once more, a silent dismissal in the act. 

He does eventually find a secluded location to burn the sheets with his reason magic. A small flame was enough to burn the bloody sheets and he stomps out the fire at the end, watching the ashes scatter into the winds as he turns back. Even though it was in the early moments of a new day, it wouldn’t do for anyone to catch him burning up bloody sheets of all things. 

Byleth shakes his head at the thought. Thinking about the rumors that were to spawn if he were caught in the act already made his head ache. 

As Byleth walks away, occupied by his thoughts, he does not see the inquisitive stare from just a distance away.

“Professor?” The boy frowns, hand placed below his chin. “Isn’t that-” 

_Isn’t that blood on his shirt?_ Dimitri thinks to himself, seeing the red stain appearing stark against the white dress shirt. 

_It does not look as though it is old,_ Dimitri observed, mind racing. _Nor does it look like it came from battle. In fact-_

Dimitri’s heart skipped a beat. 

_No, it couldn’t be,_ Dimitri shakes his head, dispelling his wild thoughts. _It must be the lack of sleep getting to me._

With that, Dimitri walks off, the mystery of his new professor still imprinted deep inside his mind despite his wants for the opposite. 

_In fact, it looks as though it was- was-_ His thoughts cut off. _But if that were so, he should be dead. No one can survive, not when they lose that much blood. I should know that._

His steps falter for a brief moment, and despite himself, he turns back to the spot where his professor once was and finding nothing but ashes.

There was a tiny piece of a fabric that was stained with red, embedded deep in the ground underneath the ashes as though someone has stepped on it to douse the flames, Dimitri notes, the coloration looking suspiciously like dried blood. Recently dried blood. 

But surely that was nothing more than a coincidence. 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Byleth and Sothis like this was super fun haha. the addict and the enabler would be how I would put their relationship. Esp now that Sothis kinda, really, want byleth to die for those sweet memories and Byleth Very Much Does Not Mind. Dimitri is the first step in the whole domino that will be the blue lions and their wacko conspiracies on byleth lmao so i hope y'all will enjoy that! Finals is finally over for me so there's that as well! 
> 
> Please leave a kudo and comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you disliked, your ramblings, just anything, really to make my winter break extra special. <3


	10. Danger Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> byleth talks and maybe somehow teachs, only a tiny bit, though

Byleth would admit to himself that he wasn’t a good teacher. He was never one to readily lend a hand to new recruits or offer them advice. Let alone try and teach them. No, that arduous was all for Jeralt, even though Byleth could tell that he hated the job just as much and the man, too, would delegate the job to another mercenary. The perks of being the leader, Jeralt would say in response to Byleth’s unimpressed stare. Then the man would make a threat or two about how if Byleth won’t stop staring at him like that then it’ll be him next on the chopping block. To which Byleth would finally turn away, still unimpressed but no keener to the idea of handling new recruits. 

_“What a circus act you two are,”_ Sothis commented, somewhat amused. Byleth knows he should be offended by the insult and he was, to some degree. But not as much as he should be at the prospect of a child commenting on the joke that was him and his father. 

_“Child?”_ Ah, it appears that Sothis was more offended than he. As expected from a goddess, he supposed. Even a tiny one. 

Ah, there was another sound of immense frustration before Sothis went silent. Perhaps not wanting for Byleth to continue to think of her as a child throwing a tantrum. 

Byleth would shrug if it weren’t for the fact that he was outside in the general public’s eye. Sothis, as Byleth considers her, was strangely contradictory. To alternate between apathetic and affronted. 

But perhaps that was just because he was treading on a sore point of hers?

Byleth considers the thoguht for a moment before dismissing it again. He had more important thoughts to think about now. Mainly, on how he was going to teach those students of his. And second, the problem of the bloodstains for his future deaths. It wouldn’t do for Byleth to keep burning his sheets every morning and having to request new ones. 

Byleth can already imagine Jeralt’s pestering if the man were to find out; Jeralt would find out quickly, too. For despite his generally battle-orientated mind the man was strangely fond of gossip. A terrible trait that bothered Byleth to no end when they were traveling together. As Byleth did not wish to know why Maria loved Terith but weren’t able to marry, nor did he wish to know about Udyan’s affair with Maria afterward. Nor how Terith became so distraught that he swore that he would take Udyan’s life. 

Jeralt was strangely taken in with that particular piece of gossip. And Byleth could swear that sometimes when the man was recounting them to his band of mercenaries, half bored and half asleep, there would be tears in his eyes. 

Byleth’s point was that if he were to somehow act out of place during his stay at Garreg Mach Jeralt would no doubt find out about it and then pester him to no end. 

_“Troublesome man,”_ Sothis noted, although he knew that she felt somewhat intrigued._ “Well, he is your father.”_

Byleth felt somewhat miffed, near certain that Sothis had insulted him in some way.

_“No matter, you’ll keep dying for me anyways, right?”_

The thing she said wasn’t a request, much like any of her other questions. They were not suggestions either, but a subtly worded order. Perhaps a threat, even, knowing her. For despite not having a corporeal form now, Sothis was still a goddess. And goddesses? Goddesses did not make idle threats. 

Sothis giggles. Birds and ghosts. 

_ “Threaten, huh, silly.”_ He can hear the words spoken intimately as though her lips were mere breaths fro his ear._ “... Tell me, Byleth. Do I even need to threaten you?”_

Byleth draws in a shaky breath as his veins turn fiery and his heart fill with heat. 

No, no she didn’t. 

He wonders, briefly, if that thought should scare him.

* * *

Byleth was promptly informed of the mock battle the same day. Dutifully nodding to Seteth as the man continues to glare at him, as though seeing his father in Byleth’s visage. An almost impossible task, that was, for Byleth had seemed to resemble everyone _but_ his own father. 

But perhaps who Seteth was looking for weren’t his father but instead his mother. Byleth wouldn’t know. For he hadn’t even known her name, not to mention her features. He had wished to, once, as all motherless children had. But now it was nothing more than a passing thought on days that ran too idle. 

_”Who do I remind you of, Seteth?”_ he wished to ask. Wish to ask and then perhaps get an answer from the man in an impossible future. 

_Or perhaps,_ he thinks as his thoughts run wilder. _I should call you Cichol instead, and watch how that’ll go._

Sothis giggles, as though the mere thought amuses her. A hint of anticipation rising from within him as Sothis rears her head. Eyes focused upon Seteth and Rhea.

_Cichol and Seiros._ Sothis reminded him. Mind torn between observing the two and trying to find them in her memories, as barren as it were. 

He repeats the names, quiet and low. The corner of his eyes focused on their expression as he pretends to look away, almost absentminded. 

The statement should’ve been too quiet to hear, normally. But the two seem to snap to attention, eyes sharp as steel as they focus on him. 

Danger, his instincts scream for a moment that lasted too long for his comfort. Danger. 

“What was that?” Seteth asked, folding his arms. Defensive and ready. 

Ready for what? Byleth does not know. 

“Nothing,” Byleth said after a brief moment, “I said nothing.” 

“You-” Rhea places a hand on Seteth’s shoulder. Commanding his attention to her. 

“He said nothing, Seteth,” the woman said. Regal and high above as she normally was. But there was a hint of unrest in her eyes. Something almost… animalistic about it. Familiar, Byleth notes after a moment of observation, to Sothis. 

That, that was when Byleth was sure. 

Cichol and Seiros, he repeated inside his mind. Watching the two, expression still blank as ever. 

_... I know them_.

That thought crosses his mind briefly and that, too, Byleth knows is not his own thought. 

But- but for a brief moment, he had mistaken it for his own. For that brief moment, he had looked at the two and thought, Seiros, Cichol, there you are. For that brief moment he had looked at them and wished to say, here I am, it’s me your-

The thought cuts out there as so did Sothis’ memories and feelings. Fracturing from him completely as Sothis’ memory separates itself from him. Once again leaving them as two separate entities. 

“I’ll be leaving,” Byleth said. Sure that this was his own voice. For there was no way that Sothis would willingly part with the two, this fact, too, he knows. 

He could feel Seiros’ gaze on him as he does so, mystified and enraptured. Almost hungry in a way that was entirely out of his realm of understanding. And Cichol’s doubtful but angry eyes, perhaps not staring at him at all, but the back of the man that was his father.

* * *

As he rests on the podium, watching over his students as they argue amongst each other for the best tactic against a gremory with too much money and too little morals. 

They were certainly enthusiastic, he’ll give them that much. Even if their tactics weren’t very… sound. 

“Just stab her and be done with it,” Felix snapped, almost snapping his quill as he does so. 

“She’s a _gremory,_” Ingrid retorted, frowning pointedly at Felix, “You just can’t go up to her and just stab her.”

“I can and I will,” Felix returned, frowning even more. 

“Still, that’s very reckless, Felix,” Mercedes said, a deep sigh to her voice, “You would be very hurt.” 

Felix grunted, obviously not taking her words to heart. 

“Yes, you’d be very hurt,” Dimitri agreed, nodding mulishly. 

Felix groaned at that, frown becoming even more pronounced. 

“Yeah, listen to them, Felix,” Sylvain coaxed. Almost like the owner of a very peeved and stubborn cat, pleading for the thing to just get off the tree already. 

“No,” Felix, the cat, refused, “fuck that.” 

Sylvain laughs, obviously familiar with the whole routine by now as he does not even falter with the insult thrown at him. 

“A- as expected,” Ashe whispered from the side to Annette. 

“Sure is, regular ol’ Felix,” Annette said, nodding her head sagely. 

Byleth wonders what Felix had done throughout all his acquaintance with all of them for his reputation to have become this way. 

“She’ll blast your face off before you can get close,” Ingrid said, none too kindly. 

“Doubt that,” Felix replied loftily, waving away Ingrid’s remark. 

“I doubt your chance of survival,” Ingrid bit back. 

“I doubt yours,” Felix argued back, hands drawn to his sword. 

Ingrid crosses her arm, an obvious dismissal to Felix’s insult. 

Byleth wondered when the next fight was going to break out.

* * *

“Say, Professor,” Dimitri said softly breaking Byleth out of his thoughts as he waved his last student off.

Byleth grunted, turning his attention to Dimitri.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” 

Byleth nodded. 

“What were you doing this morning?” Dimitri asked, blunt and honest to a fault. 

Byleth froze. This morning he was-

“I- I saw you and I couldn’t help but think about it, something about it just-”

This morning he was burning the ruined sheets. 

The bloody, ruined sheets. 

Byleth rears back. Hands twitching for his dagger and readying to run or fight. 

Just what had he seen? 

And just what had he inferred? 

Dangerous, Byleth thinks. Very dangerous indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chatper! not as chaotic as the other ones but it set up for the next few chatpers haha. hope y'all enjoyed the brief rhea and seteth along with the little blue lions scnee. and hope y'all will look forward more dimitri next chapter! 
> 
> As always please leave kudos and comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't, your rants, just anything, really, I'd appreciate it! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed that! I just love writing about byleth being dumb with his own life and just dying every tuesday lol. its gonna be a wild journey with byleth's skewed thoughts on death and everyone else just noping the heck out. we finally talk to dimitri next chapter and of course, angst and a bit of fluff next update. i just love what possibilities could byleth have had instead of time travel. 
> 
> Come and chill at my discord!: https://discord.gg/BeQKa4J
> 
> Please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't like, just anything to really motivate the author and make her day!( ´͈ ॢꇴ `͈ॢ)･*♡


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